Are you really surprised?
by Foxcub2
Summary: Set after TDK. The Joker has escaped from Arkham Asylum and intends to free Dr. Harleen Quinzell from the trappings of sanity with one...bad...night... Rated M for later chapters. Nolanverse (Revised)
1. Watching

This was what he'd been waiting for. Guy's return from whatever dull occupation, known as a 'career' to the masses, had been filling his numbered days. _Well, not that Guy knew they were numbered_, he mused, _the walking dead rarely did._ _The Walking Dead, now that was a good show! Zombies killing supposed non-zombies, despite their being equally brain dead. Ha! _

He shifted slightly in his car seat to regain focus. Yes, there was the blue eco-friendly four-door driven by the medical intern, parked alongside the entrance to the apartment building of a particularly gifted petite doctor. The Joker watched as Guy opened the driver's door and noticed that the passenger door opened too. A dark grin spread across his scarred mouth as a tall, somewhat attractive brunette stepped out and turned to follow Guy into the building. _Could it be? Could this young, perfect male specimen, with his farm boyish good looks, an extra for the famous fucking five, actually be... imperfect? _

The Joker cast his mind back to one of the many therapy sessions with the lovely Dr. Harleen Quinzell and her answer to his 'why do you love Guy'; she'd said he was perfect. He'd managed to keep his face impassive at her response, yet his head had filled with a deafening roar of rage; a rage that had demanded Guy's demise before he'd even started to consciously plan it. _Well, plan was a strong word. There wasn't going to be any attempt to hide this murder or conversely make an elaborate show for GCN. No… there… wasn't. It would be this. An unexpected ambush at the doc's place, a literal bloody mess, and then wait for Harleen to return after another's day work 'curing minds and saving souls'._

These thoughts had caused the Joker to miss much of what Harleen had said during the rest of that therapy session but it didn't matter. When he was quiet he could tell she believed he was concentrating on what she was saying, daring to hope that she was finally getting through to his 'psyche' with all of her carefully chosen words and psychological jargon. In reality he was either mentally undressing her or enjoying a roller coaster ride of mad thoughts.

He shifted in his seat for the second time to refocus on the present and realised that Guy and his new 'squeeze' were now inside and probably in Harleen's apartment four flights up, tearing off clothes in a sickening 'I need you right now' teen movie way. _Wasn't that also the way most teen horror movies started too? _Perhaps he should film this for GCN? After all, the brunettes presence wasn't about to stop him from killing Guy today. _Heh!_ The evidence and death of Guy's betrayal might help speed along the whole grieving process thing Harleen was bound to do. Tedious but then again she wasn't as evolved as he was._ Yet._

The Joker cast a quick glance up and down the quiet street and moved to get out his black sedan when another eco-friendly car pulled sharply round the corner and screeched to a halt behind Guy's vehicle. _Well this was just getting better! The doc's home early! And clearly pissed! And since when did those cars go fast enough to 'screech' when braking hard?!_

The Joker let go of the door handle and slouched back down, stretching out his long legs to lace his purple-gloved fingers in his lap. It had taken less than a moment, like his unpredictable moods, for the Joker to change his mind. He decided to wait and observe this unexpected event that was now shaping Guy's immediate future. Guy would still die today. _Nothing... nothing could stop that now. _But Harleen was always prettier after she'd cried and achingly beautiful when she put on a brave face, even though her lower lip and chin wobbled like jelly. It was pathetically endearing really and a sight he would soon savour again but for now he'd wait. He actually wanted to see what she would do.

Ha! Chaos was as faithful to him as he was to it!


	2. Unfair

_The bastards! How could they?! _How could they just suspend her like that when she had given 'blood, sweat and tears' to that place?! Hours upon hours she'd arrived at work early and stayed late. Not to mention the weekends and sleepless nights working at home! _Huh! _And this was how they thanked her? How Dr. Arkham thanked her and Dr. Leland betrayed her!_ By blaming her for the Joker's escape!_

Yes, she'd admit she'd pushed a little early in their therapy than she normally would for another patient, for him to enjoy an hour a week out of his cell to walk about the asylum gardens. _But what psychiatrist wouldn't?_ The advances he had made over the last six months in good behaviour, a clear response to her therapy, was truly astonishing! They'd been making terrific progress and then the guards had failed to do their part; to guard him! It had been five weeks later during his fifth trip outside that he'd escaped, leaving a trail of dead bodies in his wake. _It was truly amazing the damage a man could do to another with a blunt trowel._

Yet she had become the accused and as the asylum needed to be seen as 'doing something', the senior doctors thought it best to suspend her for two weeks due to her 'poor judgement'.

Harleen pressed the brake peddle hard, stopping barely inches from the vehicle in front which she recognised as Guy's. Sighing with relief she loosened her grip on the steering wheel and watched the blood return to her white knuckles. The bottle of red wine she'd bought on her way home rolled off the passenger seat and bounced in the foot-well along with her handbag. Harleen sighed again, relieved that it hadn't broken and only the bag had spilled its contents; five cassette tapes amounting to one hundred and twelve hours of Joker therapy. After pushing them back into her bag, Harleen grabbed the bottle and exited her car towards the apartment building. Her thoughts were now focused on drinking the wine and moaning to her good dependable boyfriend, about how the world had treated her badly today and how glad she was he'd agreed to move in eight months ago. This caused her to miss the run down black car parked further along the street. A car which would have been more at home in The Narrows, not this quiet, upmarket street close to Gotham City centre.


	3. Home truths

**Just a quick thank you to all who are reading this and I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am writing it!  
**

**To CreepyDoll: Guy is Harley's fiancé in The Joker Blogs (which I love too!) but he originally appeared in the DC universe and I read on Wikipedia that 'Harley had a relationship in college with fellow psychiatry major Guy Kopski whose suicide started her obsession with the Joker'.**

**Disclaimer: This might be a good time, just in case I definitely have to, to state that in no way do I own any of these characters (except for the brunette Claire) and no profit is being made from this fiction.  
**

* * *

Guy's heart stopped when he heard Harleen call his name, as she opened the apartments main door.

'Guy!' she called again, ' I hope you're not sleeping because I need a shoulder to cry on today...badly!' He heard a cork pop and imagined that she was in the kitchen area of their open plan living space; the clink of wine glasses confirmed this.

'Shit, shit, shit,' he whispered as he struggled to pull his boxers and trousers on quickly, causing him to stumble and crash into Harleen's' wardrobe. 'Fuck!'

'Guy? You alright?' she called, not as loudly this time as she walked towards their bedroom. Guy looked at the girl who had been lying in the bed with him and saw that she was nearly dressed though clearly not bothering with her underwear, which she stuffed into the pockets of her jeans. _Yeah, Claire clearly is the 'go to' girl at med school and must have been caught like this before_, Guy thought. She just looked so calm and..._ did she just shrug at him?_

As the bedroom door opened Guy froze, his gaze drawn to Harleen's face. At first it was blank, shocked by the sight of a stranger in her bedroom but swiftly the realization of what she saw dawned and she stared at the crumpled bed sheets, the open front of Guy's jeans, and the guilt in his eyes.

All three stood in silence until Claire, sensing that this might be the best time to leave before the initial shock wore off, mumbled an insincere sounding apology and edged out of the room. Harleen's head turned as she watched the slim woman walk down the hall of her home and exit the main door,before slowly returning her gaze back to Guy's face. He hadn't moved or attempted further dressing. He stood impossibly still, unsure of what to say, waiting for her to break the silence.

Swallowing back a hard lump that was rapidly forming in her throat, threatening to choke her, Harleen managed to speak.

'Guy?'

'I'm sorry', he said quietly, unable to meet her stare, choosing instead to look at a spot on the carpet before her feet.

Harleen's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a loud sob as the tears which had been brimming at her eyes escaped. Turning sharply, she fled back down the hall into the living area of her little home, her haven from all of the madness and cruelty of the world; now a place which some of that cruelty had penetrated. Her blue eyes couldn't focus on anything in particular, blurred by their tears as she continued pressing the palm of her hand against her mouth, muffling her sobs. Her stomach was a hollow pit and she felt nauseous, until a hand touched her shoulder.

Spinning round she pushed out hard and connected with Guy's chest, forcing him backwards into a table chair. The sight of him flailing to gain balance before he sat down heavily interrupted Harleen's sorrow and suddenly he was faced with her anger.

'I can't... I can't believe you would... I can't believe you'd be that type. Oh my god! Why? I mean, how could you do that? Are you leaving me?! Have you had enough? Are you a cheat? Oh my god! Who the fuck are you?!' Harleen's questions poured out rapidly, the pitch of her voice rising with each one until the last, which ended in a near scream.

Guy opened his arms wide, his palms face up as he tried to reply.

'Harley, just stop, just listen for a second. I'm not a cheat,' Harleen cut him off with a derisve snort. Crossing her arms she turned away and walked towards one of the tall windows lining the outer wall of her apartment.

'No listen,' he continued, rising to follow her at a distance, 'Yes I was then… and I'm so sorry I really am but it truly was the first and only time. Claire put it on a plate and I'm so sorry but well, it's been ages that we've... you know... and I love you, I really do, but... for god's sake... it's been three months!'

Harleen spun round, her blonde hair framing her face like a halo against the darkening sky.

'I don't care if it's been three years!' she screamed, 'You say NO! N..O! NO! And then you come back to me and tell me that you have a problem and we sort it out! That's no excuse! God! We've been together for two years nearly and I asked you to move in! To live with me! And this?! God…you just wanted to because she,' Harley pointed at the door as if Clare's departing figure could still be seen, 'is easy and yeah, offers _it_ on a plate.'

'No!' Guy shouted exasperatedly, 'I mean yeah but no! If things were OK between us I wouldn't have even thought about it but you have put work and your obsession before us and well everything!' Harleen's jaw dropped, shocked and disgusted that she was becoming the accused. Noting her reaction, Guy pressed on, angry that Harleen appeared oblivious to the distance she had created over the last six months.

'It's true', he continued, 'even on the weekends you're working or tired and I'm _tired_ of watching you type and read through your notes about patients who just don't deserve your time off like I do...me... your _shoulder_!' Guy knew his last comment would hurt and immediately he felt guilty for saying it. However, his gut told him this was definitely the 'make or break' row for their relationship, so she had to know.

Yet judging by Harleen's response, she had either chosen to ignore his last words or completely missed them; just as they missed a tall shadow pass along the fire escape outside the apartment windows.

'What are you talking about? What obsession?' she asked in a markedly lower, steady tone; even as her body tremored with emotion.

Guy sighed, ready to match his tone with hers. He knew Harleen would deny it and would probably start shouting again but it needed to be said.

'The Joker.'

'What?!'

'The Joker, you're obsessed. Maybe that's too harsh a word but to an outsider it would look like you are. You spend what... eighty per cent of your time working at home on his therapy notes? How much time do you also spend at work on them?' As he spoke, Guy moved towards a filing cabinet at the opposite end of the room. Harleen didn't bother to lock it very often, even though it contained confidential material about her four patients. She'd unthinkingly trusted Guy's ethics as a doctor in training but now she deeply regretted her naivety.

Guy pulled open the top two drawers and pulled out a thick folder from each. 'There are what...ten more folders like these in both drawers... all about the Joker? Yet the bottom drawer is big enough for _all_ the files about the other three patients?'

Harleen stamped to his side and pulled the folders roughly from his hands before stuffing them haphazardly back into the drawer, slamming it shut. As she turned the small key which was always left in its lock, she snapped.

'These are confidential! You have no right to look at them and it is a serious offence. You don't know how many folders of my other patients I keep in my office and besides, you can't compare the Joker to the majority of patients at Arkham Asylum... or anywhere!'

'Why not?'

'Because he's different! He's unfathomable in comparison! His IQ is almost off the chart meaning that he sees every trick in the book during therapy before it's even apparent. But because of the effort I've been putting in, because I have spent so many _weekends _going over what he has said or his responses I was finally getting through to him.' Her voice lowered a little and she looked past Guy, her gaze unfocused. 'I was going to do what no one else could. I was going to change the most feared and deadly man of this decade into a benefit for Gotham.'

Guy's eyebrows arched dramatically and he barked out a short laugh. 'You can't be serious?'

'Why not?' Harleen demanded as she desperately fought an urge to slap his disbelieving face; an urge she had fought earlier in the day when Dr. Joan Leland had informed her that she was to take an enforced break, to 're-focus' her energies. 'You haven't spent half a year talking to him in therapy so why should you understand?'

'Is that why you thought it would be a good idea to let him out of his cell once a week?' Guy asked, 'Even when there are equally dangerous patients in there who haven't seen the sky for years!'

'You can't treat him like the others, that's the point!' she argued back, incensed by his ignorance. 'He's not 'text book' insane! He's not typical, he's not really insane anyway. Eccentric yes, dangerously so and psychopathic but he's not insane. He's just not typical...he's different...there's never been a patient like him. It's exciting.'

Guy shook his head slowly and stepped away from her. _Couldn't she hear herself?_ She sounded disturbingly like a mother explaining away her darling boy's behaviour as 'high spirits'; whilst the child clearly displayed behavioural issues as he set fire to a bin or kicked the cat.

But he could ignore that, it didn't matter. He loved Harleen and perhaps the Joker's escape was a blessing. Without his presence, she would return to her normal self. Become the girl he'd met two years ago who loved her work, but also lived for the weekend to be care free and a little giddy; tearing about town with him and their old college mates before getting drunk and having crazy hot sex all over their apartment.

However, before Guy could verbalize his feelings, Harleen's handbag strangely caught his eye. As normal it had been dropped carelessly on to the small dining table, where it usually spilled out keys and cosmetics. But this time it set free a few recording tapes, the black lettering on their spines spelling the word 'Joker'. Harleen was slow to realise what caught Guy's attention but when she saw his hand reach out and pick one of the cassettes up, her stomach became a hollow pit again.

With his back to her Guy turned the cassette over and read the details on the front, which were written in Harleen's small, precise style: _**Property of Dr. Harleen Quinzell, November 27**__**th**__** 2010, Therapy Session 42, Patient #0801 The Joker.**_

'You're not allowed to take these out of the asylum's grounds Harley' he said matter of factly.

'I know', she said, moving quickly to take it from his hand and push it back into the bag with the other tapes. 'But I've been suspended for a few weeks so I took them home. I don't trust all of the staff at Arkham, especially some of the guards. If these got into the wrong hands they could get posted all over the internet.'

It was half the truth. Both were aware that therapy tapes regarding other high profile patients such as Dr. Jonathan Crane aka The Scarecrow, had at one time or another disappeared and then reappeared on You Tube. But the rest of the truth, the part she would not admit to Guy and barely to herself, was that she had been missing the Joker's voice and even though it was unlikely she would ever see him again, she couldn't face the prospect of not hearing him 'cold-turkey'. _It was perfectly natural. After all, the last six months had been pretty intense._

'I think they already have'. Guy muttered but Harleen didn't notice, her mind elsewhere. Sensing the pointlessness in continuing, he walked back to the bedroom and finished dressing.

Moments later he returned carrying a small bag with a few overnight necessities and watched as Harleen locked the cabinet again. He noted that her handbag was missing from the room.

'I'm going to stay at my brothers tonight' he said evenly as he picked up his leather coat from the sofa and pulled it on. Harleen stared at him, accusation in her eyes.

'So that's it? You cheat, blame it on me and then leave!'

Guy sighed, 'I love you Harls, I really do but I think we need some time apart. Maybe with me gone for a while you'll miss me as much as you're missing the Joker...', Harleen averted her eyes, _so he'd guessed the truth anyway_.

'...and then you'll know what you really want. I don't think you even love me anymore anyway.'

Harleen's temper resurfaced without pause, furious that he had assumed the role of victim despite his actions. Shaking with rage, she clenched her fists tightly and marched towards him, screaming as he opened the door to leave.

'I will NOT stand here and try to convince you that I love you when you, YOU, have done wrong! Not me! You! You're the one who bought another woman here to our home to fuck! So go to her if that's what you want, but don't try to blame me for your weakness! Get out you selfish, selfish... Get out! Get out! GET OUT!' she finished, slamming the door behind him.


	4. Uninvited

**Hi there! I hope that anyone reading this is enjoying it, reviews would be great as they help keep me motivated, though I am definitely writing this for my own pleasure too! ;) Sorry that this is a short one but that's how I think it'll go, one short chapter one long, plus life keeps getting in the way when I'd rather be writing! Enjoy!**

* * *

_Finally_, thought the Joker as he watched Harleen disappear into her bathroom. It had been a while since he'd crouched for so long in ambush before visiting a little (or big) chaos on some unsuspecting 'victim'. Not that he was intending to hurt Harleen in a physical sense, though the fact he had had to wait for her to get her pretty little ass out of the living area could be a factor in his changing mood.

Growling under his breath he shifted his feet and turned to the window. Not only had cramp set in one of his calves, he was starting to feel cold as the constant drizzle of rain had gradually soaked through his purple trench coat. It had also caused his makeup to run slightly, not that he cared that much for his personal appearance. _After all didn't Lessmopolitan and Marie Dyke promote that the key to happiness is always be your-self? To never worry what others think? Well he was managing both of those very well, and he'd never seen anyone with a bigger smile than him. _

After a quick glance over his shoulder, the Joker effortlessly raised the unlocked window and climbed inside. Standing still he casually stretched his arms and rolled his head from side to side, listening to the clicks in his stiff neck. His dark eyes travelled the room, taking in all the mundane, urban details of his doctor's life. Nothing caught his interest and the few framed family photos that hung on the walls only saddened him. _Bland, boring…disturbingly normal_.

Whilst licking unconsciously at the scarring about his mouth, the Joker hunched his shoulders and stepped further into the room; leaving drops of rain behind him on the hardwood floor. He could now hear water running in the bathroom and smell the perfumed, sickly scent of bubble-bath.

He was cold and his mood wasn't improving.

He had continued watching Harleen for half an hour after Guy's departure, and it had been less than thrilling; a few more tears, foot stamping, a glass of wine whilst watching GCN headlines, _undoubtedly hoping to see him_, and now the plan was…_a relaxing bath?!_ The Joker was starting to have serious doubts if the little doc was really as interesting and 'fun' as he'd previously thought.

However, he couldn't help but smile when he thought about what she'd said regarding him. It was surprisingly rare that people readily recognised his genius, usually a blade at the throat would have to coax out the admission. The rest of the 'show' had been tedious and he would have admired her more if she'd trapped Guy's fingers in the filing cabinet or taken the wine bottle to his head._ Now that would have been fun_.

Suddenly the Joker's thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched beep and a vibrating buzz from the filing cabinet. Swiftly he moved behind the couch as the bathroom door opened and the sound of Harleen's bare feet entered the room.

The Joker pressed the back of his leather glove to his mouth to stifle a giggle that was bubbling up in his throat. In that moment, his growing impatience rapidly subsided into glee as he felt excitement rise through his body at the promise of what was to come. He could forgive her for being so human right now, as ultimately she was going to be his greatest creation; a living, breathing doll that would adore him. Yet she was also going to be so much more than that. She was to be his first ever running-joke.

_Oh yes!,_ the Joker thought as his eyes began to water from the struggle of keeping his laugh under control, _the Batman will have no choice but to laugh when he sees me again with my beautiful little admirer, following at my heels like a lovesick puppy!_

He bit down hard on his finger as the need to laugh was becoming unbearable, but he just couldn't stop picturing the look on Batman's face; when he would see the Joker with something he had lost and something the Joker would never allow him to have again.

The Batman would be reminded every day of his failure; another of Gotham's angels lost to chaos, another woman the Bat had failed to protect…_ another Rachel._


	5. Denial

**I hope you enjoy this. I've managed to write a longer chapter finally! **

**Scrambled-Dry: Thankyou for your review! I really appreciate it! I'm sorry but Rachael is dead in this story.  
**

* * *

Harleen read the text message again as she re-filled her wine glass. From the moment Guy had left, she had hoped he would see how wrong he had been and knock at their door, begging for forgiveness. _Instead_, she thought indignantly, _he had messaged he was _'_sorry she had been suspended and despite everything she didn't deserve that_'.

At first her eyes had watered, thinking how much she did need him right now and she just wanted him home. However the sight of the Joker's therapy tapes and folders stemmed the flow and she recalled Guy's accusations.

_No, he was in the wrong, absolutely, without question_. He would be the one who would miss her overtime whatever he thought. _Yeah, it's obvious what the real problem is!_ Not her dedication to her work. No, Guy was just another insecure male threatened by her success and couldn't bear being part of a couple where the woman was as capable as the man. _Yes, that was why he had gone after a stupid slut like Claire for his pitiful ego_.

'Pathetic!' she said aloud as she put her phone down on the kitchen counter.

Consciously, her mind said she was leaving it there so that she wouldn't be disturbed by Guy or anyone else as she did her best to forget the day. However a niggling little voice at the back of her mind, which she tried to ignore, insisted she didn't trust herself to not call him.

Yet whatever she thought, Harleen couldn't ignore the physical truth of how sad she was. Her head throbbed, her eyes stung from their salty tears, and now a hollow ache had settled in her chest; she was alone…again.

Maybe she could have made more of an effort in the evenings. Maybe she could have taken some time off work to have a long weekend; her holidays had been stacking up and she was sure she was due at least three bank holidays.

_Not like she'd had much choice but to work them,_ she mused as she walked back towards the filing cabinet and picked out two of the recorded tapes. The Joker had been scheduled for Mondays and Thursdays and she had only missed one of those sessions, but it had been enough to know that she couldn't afford to again. He hadn't cared that she had been too sick for work that day. In fact he hadn't even waited to find out why she hadn't appeared. That same week, on the Wednesday, he had successfully escaped his restraints during a routine cell cleaning and gouged an eye from one of the guards whilst laughing and shouting 'I want to see my Harlequin!'

Moving back to the kitchen counter, Harleen picked up her glass and headed towards the bathroom. Setting it down by two lit candles her aunt had bought her for Christmas, vanilla and cinnamon, _a lot of thought had gone into those!_, she removed her clothes and stepped into the bath. She lowered herself slowly to allow her skin time to adjust to the hot temperature but despite her caution it turned an angry pink in protest and the sensitive skin about her ankles hurt.

However it distracted her from the pain in her chest and she was glad... but it didn't last for long.

As she stretched out the crushing weight of day's emotions resurfaced and her brow creased as she thought how close she had been to 'having it all'. To having the desired normal life, the American dream, with a man that would have made her parents so proud.

Harleen rubbed her eyes and willed herself not to cry.

Instead, she reached over the side of the bath and selected one of the tapes, slipping it into an old cassette player that she'd managed to buy online. It was second or third-hand and was pretty battered but either way she was glad to have it tonight.

Pressing the 'play' button Harleen leant back and waited to hear a voice that would truly distract her from the reality of the day. A voice which at times could be low and husky, a rumbling growl from deep within its owner's chest, which compelled her to lean forward against her will, absorbing every word. And at other times, a voice that would leap up high to a nasal whine before it burst into a skin crawling, yet infectious, laugh.

She closed her eyes and sighed, smiling for the first time in days.

* * *

Once again the Joker had freedom to move about his psychotherapists living room unhindered. Yet this time there was something of interest to him and without hesitation he picked it up.

Pleased she hadn't bothered with a passcode, the Joker searched through the recent messages stored on Harleen's phone until he found the latest, from Guy. As he read it and scrolled through the history of their text messages, he narrowed his eyes and pressed his tongue forcefully against the back of his teeth.

Not that he cared that much for what 'Mr. Pathetic' wrote to his doctor. After all it was all history, dead and buried, much like Guy would be soon. However, after reading one too many 'lovey-dovey' texts between the two, he admittted to himself that he'd better stop before the phone ended up in someone's skull and unfortunately, only Harley's head was nearby and that was a little premature for what he had planned.

The Joker pressed 'Clear all' and selected 'New Message'…

Moments later the quietness of the apartment was broken.

"_Session twenty two, Patient zero-eight-zero-one The Joker, September sixteenth two thousand and ten, at ten a.m with Dr. Harleen Quinzell"._

The Joker replaced the phone and tilted his head towards the sound of Harleen's recorded voice.

"_So, how are you feeling today?"_

"_Fine doc. How are you?"_ a new voice, his. A devilishly seductive voice if ever he heard one.

"_I'm okay but as I remind you, frequently, let's keep things with you."_

"_You're the boss."_

The Joker cast his mind back, searching his memory for anything remarkable about 'session twenty two'. He had heard Harleen remove tapes from the cabinet whilst he hid behind the couch, _gnawing his finger down to a bloody stump_, but he couldn't think why this tape. It had been the early days, when he was still in two minds about what he wanted to do with her. Either beat her to death with her notebook which she'd scratched at incessantly with her cheap fountain pen, or use her in some extraordinary spectacular way. At the time an idea how had yet to come, but it had scratched at his mind like that fucking pen! The Joker smiled to himself, _if she hadn't dropped the note taking eventually to rely just on the recordings, the decision would have been made for both them. Death by notebook would have been too laborious, so death by pen in the aorta would probably have done._

"_On Monday we talked about your interactions with other patients, namely Dr. Jonathan Crane, and how at times, you can find it difficult to suppress violent urges towards those that, in your words 'irk' you?"_

"_It's a word."_

"_Yes but generally, when a person finds another to be 'irksome', they don't attack them, or only do so verbally. Perhaps we could talk some more about that?"_

Removing his coat, the Joker walked towards the apartment's small dining table and draped it over one of the chairs. A fruit bowl sat at the centre along with a copy of The Gotham Times. Whilst nosily eating an apple he flipped the paper over, removed a pen from his purple pin-striped trousers, and began filling the crossword with obscene words.

"_Perhaps we could talk about your hair?"_

"_My hair?"_

"_Yes. Your hair. It irks me too."_

"_Oh. Um… what exactly bothers you about it?"_

"_It's too…boring. Let it down, curl it, mess it up, or be cute…like pigtails! But stop strangling it into such a tight little bun *_a sigh_* stop conforming."_

Once finished with the crossword the Joker turned the paper back over and started defacing the front page. In October she had worn pigtails.

"_I will consider it*_a pause_* Perhaps we could talk about how you feel lately as the dosages for some of your medicines have been reduced? Are you able to…"_

"_Do you take medicine?"_

"_When I am unwell… yes. Joker, what __**would**_ _you like to talk about."_

"_You"_

In the bathroom Harleen felt her stomach flip with excitement along with a curious dread; exactly as she'd felt all those months ago. Back then he had leant forward and looked at her from beneath his brow. _No he'd looked into her, into her soul. _She had stopped breathing and had had to force out her next words.

"_Our patient doctor relationship. Yes that's fine."_

"_No, no, no! Boring, blah blah. Harley you need…"_

"_Dr. Harle…"_

"_BLAH! Harley, you need to… you need to open your eyes, your ears, your mind. You see, I'm not the one truly bound here *_the sound of metal clanked_* and I'm not the only one on the couch."_

"_I don't follow."_

"_Of course you don't princess, why would you, it hasn't been asked of you? But one day you will, you will see, you will hear, and you will…open your mind."_

Finished with the paper the Joker pulled off his gloves and stepped out of his brown shoes. He walked silently to the main door, turned the lock and pocketed the key.

"_Joker, this isn't…"_

"_Ah tah tah tah. I haven't finished. Right now your job is to listen. So do it."_

The Joker walked towards the bathroom

"_You see. I'm quite a simple man. I don't ask for much in life and take plenty but sometimes it gets a bit, well, lonely…and you look in the mirror… and all you see looking back at you is a mocking clown, a mask… but one day…you look in the mirror and there's something there, behind you. Another face, sad, lonely, like yours, but wearing it's own mask. Though that doesn't matter, you're both sides… of the same coin. And you know there's no going back , _

Harleen sank deeper into the water, her heart raced as she pictured every detail of his face as he'd been that day. The moment was coming when she had felt for the first time in her life her world tilt and recognised the frailty of all she'd achieved…

"_For that new face, has changed things forever. It has shown you you're not alone, you can dance at the circus with another and fly the trapeze…but…what it doesn't know and will come to know…_

He stood beside the bath. Her were eyes closed, water lapped at her chin. He leant down to the tape player…

"_It is only your creation; it only exists through your will and desire. It has no thoughts or life outside of you. You have bought it to life and you could take it. And when I see that face Harleen Quinzell… I will say…"_

He pressed the 'pause' button…

"You're mine."


	6. Fool

**I hope this isn't moving too slowly, in the next chapter it will start to pick up speed. Reviews would be great as they keep me motivated and give me confidence to keep going with this!**

* * *

Harleen's eyes flew open at the sound of the Joker's voice, her body tensing at the sight of his painted face. All she could see was his dark eyes, sparkling with glee as his broad, macabre smile revealed two rows of small, stained teeth. Instinctively she opened her mouth to scream but anticipating this the Joker grabbed her shoulder firmly and pushed down, submerging her head in the soapy water before she could draw breath.

Just as swiftly he released her and Harleen lurched upwards, gasping frantically as she coughed and spluttered. With shaking hands she wiped water and bubbles away from her reddening eyes, as she vainly tried to conceal herself by drawing her knees to her chest.

However, the Joker's attention was drawn to his feet as some of the bath water had splashed over the side covering the tiled floor and his socks. 'Urrgh!' he exclaimed.

He hated being wet.

Moving backwards, he sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, and proceeded to pull his socks off, wringing them out over the bath.

Despite her vulnerable situation, Harleen relaxed slightly at the increased distance. It was barely perceptible and a change that others would miss but the Joker didn't. It was these little details, these little changes of emotion that he savoured so much with his hostages and he would enjoy watching them in Harleen.

Finished with his task, he draped his socks over the end of the bath to dry and picked up a small pink hand towel. Leaning forward he offered it to Harleen. Hesitantly she took it, refusing to meet his gaze and wiped her eyes again. Disappointment flickered across the Joker's face. _Huh! He knew it was a bit of a surprise and all but he thought she'd be happier than this to see him! After all she was the obsessed crazy one in this relationship! _

Harleen looked fixedly at her knees as she tried to regain some control over her breathing and the paralysis of her muscles However her mind raced along with her heartbeat, managing to scream where she had failed.

_Oh god! Help! Why is here?! Oh god! He's come to kill me, I know it! No, why would he, they had a bond surely? _After all the therapy sessions and all she had done to make his life more bearable at Arkham_. Oh you fool! What makes you think he cares about that! He is mad! You're mad for not seeing it! Look at his makeup! He didn't look like that when he was safely chained to the couch in your office. Without makeup it's just scars but look at him now! He is the man from the news who kills and murders indiscriminately, Batman's nemesis and you are just a fool, another pawn in his games. Oh god! How could I ever have thought anything remotely… anything about him being…what did I really think I had seen in his eyes during the last few sessions before he'd escaped. Oh god! Oh god!_

The Joker sensed that his former therapist was losing it a bit so he decided to break the silence himself.

'Sorry about that Harls' he smiled wanly, revealing his palms as a sign of sincerity 'but you looked like you were about to scream and we really don't want any nosey neighbours crashing tonight. Only VIPs for this party.'

Expecting a reply or a smile, the Joker felt his mood shift towards frustration as Harleen continued to deny him proper attention, only moving to place the small towel across her lap. Rolling his eyes he darted forward with unpredictable speed and grasped a corner of the towel, his thumb grazing the soft skin of her stomach.

Harleen's breath hitched in her throat at the Joker's sudden movement, at the contact, and their eyes met. Time seemed to stop and neither moved. She couldn't help but notice every paint filled crease in his face, every line that portrayed his smiles and frowns, and those eyes that were burning through her again; to her heart and soul.

She was afraid, terrified, but also acutely aware that his hand was ever so close to a part of her body that was beginning to warm, despite the cooling water.

Tugging gently at the towel, the Joker lowered his gaze to her lap and spoke softly.

'If I wanted to…what could you do?'

Then abruptly he flashed a large grin and took back his seat.

'You know back at the looney bin you were a lot chattier. At times you wouldn't shut-up! Ha! And now?' he waved a hand 'you're a mute!'

Wrapping her arms tightly around her bent knees, slightly comforted by his frightening reassurance that rape wasn't at the front of his mind, Harleen attempted to speak.

'Why are you here?'

'Why am I here?' he snorted, 'Why wouldn't I be here? You've been waiting for me, don't deny it. And tah dah! Here I am! Ready and willing to free you from your self-imposed morality, your hum drum depressing existence…and people call me a monster!'

Harleen risked a glance at his face. He was smiling, his arms crossed at his chest but his eyes still held their intensity. She knew he was scrutinizing every reaction on her part and her chances of survival depended on satisfying whatever personal measure he held against her.

'I don't think you're a monster, I think you are severely misunderstood,' she paused, 'I can help you. I want to. Just tell me what you need and we, Dr. Arkham and I, can work to help you.'

'Oh really?! You think I'm misunderstood? There is nothing to misunderstand about me, my little Harlequin,' Harleen blushed as she felt a flutter in her stomach at his last words. 'I am nothing more than my actions and you know exactly what they are. But I think you're misunderstood,' he pointed a finger at her, 'What would Dr. Arkham think if he knew his prodigy had broken the rules for her own…satisfaction?' he titled his head towards the tape player and winked knowingly. Her cheeks reddened again and it didn't go unnoticed.

'Do you like that doc? When I call you Harlequin? My Harlequin? '

She felt helpless. _What was she thinking?_ There was no way she could use the traditional hostage techniques that all the staff of Arkham were taught as part of their contracts. The Joker could never be so easily manipulated or dissuaded. When he decided to reveal that it would be at his own pleasure, but she couldn't help but suspect she was going to play a large part of it. Only moments earlier she had been listening to his revealing statement; his awareness of his own loneliness and once he found a companion to share his distorted life with, he would claim them…her.

But what worried her most was that her mind felt more naked than her body in his presence. It was obvious to him why she had bought the tapes home and was listening to them in a less than professional setting. She really had been in denial, whatever she'd thought or said to Guy earlier, and it wasn't until the Joker made it apparent to her in such a small motion as winking, that Harley's head caught up with her heart.

As unprofessional as it was, she had become infatuated with her patient…and he knew it.


	7. No escape

'All right. So, listen,' the Joker said, jumping to his feet as he moved to leave the bathroom, 'Why don't you finish up and join me in the bedroom? We've got a long night ahead of us and you need to pack.'

Harleen's eyes widened in confusion. Turning her head she gave him a quizzical look, but it was met with his back partially closed the door. 'Make it fast.'

She remained sitting, allowing the muscles in her arms and legs to relax before she attempted any movement. She recalled how he had had this effect on her the first time they met. How she had stared at him like a startled deer from the back of the therapy suite but now it seemed a lifetime ago. _After all he__ hadn't been free like this, dressed in a green waistcoat, blue shirt, tie, and purple trousers._ _No, he had worn the Arkham issue white pyjamas and straight jacket for the most serious offenders._ But she had been nervous all the same and his penetrating stare, throughout the entire session, despite the presence of another doctor, had done nothing to help.

Breathing deeply, Harleen slowly climbed out of the bath and wrapped a large pink towel around her.

_But then she had been excited too and after a few sessions she had felt at ease in his company, had looked forward to seeing him._

Now she couldn't imagine ever feeling at ease around him.

Tip toeing quietly, Harleen moved forwards and tilted her head, putting her ear to the crack in the door. The Joker was in the kitchen, _her kitchen, _opening cupboards and drawers and slamming them shut whilst muttering to himself. Suddenly he stopped and exclaimed a loud 'Ahh!' Whatever he had been searching for he had found. Harleen hoped it wasn't her large kitchen knife.

Turning he walked past her without pause and entered the bedroom, flicking the light switch on. Opening the bathroom door slowly, praying that it wouldn't creak, Harleen peered round its frame. The Joker was stood at the end of her bed with his back to her, his head turning from side to side as he examined the room for the first time. She noticed that he now wore gloves and in one hand held a black bin liner. Her heart raced again, her chest constricting in fear.

_So that was what he meant! He was here to help her escape from her 'hum drum depressing existence' by killing her!_ her mind concluded, drawing dark associations with bin liners and corpses. _The gloves could only be to hide his prints!_ her mind carried on, failing to recall the Joker's usual preference that his crimes were public. On a few occasions he had even written to the editor of The Gotham Times informing him that the current reporters were failing to include essential details about his exploits and if they didn't start reporting accurately, one of them would be getting the chance to report a first-hand account.

Instead Harleen decided on escape, rather than follow him in there. There was no chance of trying to fight him. He had almost beaten the Batman last summer, even without the technology that the vigilante was known to use. He had recounted some of these fights to her and at times, despite his violent tendencies and athletic build, she had suspected he was exaggerating his capabilities for her benefit. Now she felt foolish for ever thinking that, especially after his easy escape from the asylum. Yet at the time she had flattered herself; pleased that he had even bothered to tell her. The Joker barely spoke to anyone at Arkham, and only once to Dr. Leland, demanding that Dr. Quinzell be his therapist. That was after she had sat in on Dr. Strange's failed attempt to connect with him.

Harleen had been so flattered that he would try to impress her, she had shown excessive interest in his more dangerous tales; bordering on praise and admiration. And it had seemed that he basked in the enjoyment of such an attractive audience. Then one day she had worn her hair in 'pigtails' and it was that small action that really shifted the dynamic of their 'professional' relationship. He joked and complimented her readily and she would laugh shamelessly, wearing heavier makeup and crossing her legs towards him. But it had all been safe…just some fun to get through the day as she noticed her other patients were getting more predictable and well…boring. She had even dismissed any thoughts that the Joker would want to hurt her...that he could escape.

And now escape was her only option

Slowly inching the door open, Harleen keet her eyes fixed on the bedroom. The Joker had moved off to the right and though she couldn't see him anymore, she could hear the screech of coat hangers as he drew them across the metal rail in her wardrobe. Stealthily, she crept along the hallway towards the living area. Once there she swiftly tiptoed to the front door, gripping the fold in her towel firmly. _Shit! Where's the key?!_ She always left it in the door and knew the result before she even tried turning the handle; it was definitely locked. _The bastard!_ Of course he would have locked it. _Why else would he leave her to move about so easily?_

Next to the door Harleen kept a wooden bowl, full of spare keys for her car, the windows and main door. Pausing she listened again. She could still hear him moving about in her bedroom. Breathing deeply in an attempt to steady her shaking hand, Harleen stretched out to search for another key. Yet, undone by her nerves, she accidently knocked the bowl and the keys spilled all over the floor, ringing out like metallic rain. The bowl fell too, spiralled on its edge and settled with a hollow thud.

Harleen froze. The bedroom was silent. Without looking back she ran towards the window across the room, which led to the fire escape; noticing from the corner of her eye the Joker's tall silhouette moving down the hall.

It was already open but just as she reached it she fell, slipping on a patch of water. Her knee hit the floor first, taking the full impact as the rest of her weight crashed down. Screwing her face up with pain, Harleen screamed loudly before opening her eyes to see the Joker lean over and shut the window.

Bending down, he waved the apartment key in her face and grinned. Making sure that she was still watching, he passed his other hand in front of it and like a magic trick, it disappeared.

'Tah dah!' he mocked.

Still smiling he looked at her swollen knee, it's skin changing colour to a dark purple unlike the rest of her lightly tanned body. Placing his left hand on it gently, he pulled a face of exaggerated sympathy.

'Ooo… that's going to hurt a while princess. Why don't you do as I say and I'll make sure you don't have anymore 'accidents'.'

As he spoke the last word, the Joker viciously squeezed his hand and Harleen screamed again, this time into his gloved palm as he clamped it over her mouth, his fingers digging painfully into her cheek.

'Sh sh sh,' he soothed, waiting for her to become quiet again before moving his hand to cup her face.

_Ahh there it was_, the wobbling chin and full pout that he adored so much and for the first time had caused. His pulse quickend at the sight and he became acutely aware of the tightness of his trousers.

Knowing that he needed to look elsewhere or he would do what she had feared earlier, the Joker lowered his head and kissed her knee softly; his lips and scars leaving a delicate line of red paint. Though he wasn't one to usually deny his impulses, tonight was about her transformation and as a rule, women didn't take kindly to surprise sex.

Despite the pain and fear that coursed through her body, his gentle touch had an anecdotal effect on her mind and she suddenly found herself relaxed, her mouth parting slightly as she sighed.

Happy that she was calmer and desperately trying to shake off how pleasing it was to see her react that way, the Joker pulled Harleen to her feet and led her to the bedroom.


	8. Fear

**I hope everyone is still enjoying this! Now, here's the first chapter (of a few to come) that puts this story in the M category. So please, if fictional violence offends or upsets you be responsible to yourself and DON'T. READ. IT ! I'm not into 'gorenography' so that's not what you'll read but this is the Nolanverse Joker. You've been warned. **

* * *

The Joker pushed the plastic bag into Harleen's hand and flopped on to the bed, lying down with hands clasped behind his head and ankles crossed. As a master of deception, he visually appeared at ease but truthfully, he needed to create a little distance between them whilst those unfamiliar feelings faded away. _After all, he was creating a joke, a masterpiece, not planning a family. She needed to control her influence on him!_

Glancing at a clock on her bedside table he noted the time.

'Well,' he waved a hand at the room, 'chop, chop! You've wasted enough time already.'

Harleen looked down at the bag in her hand. Slightly emboldened by his tender kiss moments ago she questioned him, her mind strangely blotting out the pain he'd caused.

'What am I packing for? This is not going to be big enough for everything I need.'

'And what is it that you _need_ Harls?' he replied, smiling amiably, much like he used to during their therapy sessions. She could almost recognise his face beneath the makeup in this mood.

'Well… my clothes, my toiletries, my makeup…um…my shoes. Lots of things.'

The Joker silently listened before rolling his eyes dramatically at the short sightedness of her list.

'If those _are_ the things you _need_ then do your best, but… be aware that whatever you leave behind you leave for good. Including...' he leant over to her bedside table, opened the drawer and started removing her personal items, tossing them to the floor, 'passport, photos, books, journal…' he flicked through it and grinned at her. He had noticed a large J on a few of the pages which he knew could only mean him. Tuckinng the small book inside his waistcoat, he ignored the mortified look on Harleen's face. However she didn't protest, there was no point. _Good girl_.

He then leapt up and walked about the room picking up and dropping her other personal possessions.

'Ornaments, trinkets, pointless little boxes... _more_ photos?! Can't you remember what these people look like?' His eyes squinted at one picture, her graduation portrait, she stood between her parents. It seemed to hold his interest for a moment then it joined the rest of the things collecting on the floor. Finally he stopped at a framed certificate above her vanity table.

'Gymnastics?'

'When I was younger.'

'Hmmm. May be useful.' His voice was flat as he spoke, so Harleen could tell he was serious and not making a cheap innuendo. _But how the hell could it be useful?_

Feeling he'd made his point, the Joker returned to the bed and Harleen was grateful. It was hard coping with how animated he was; he seemed to move all the time in a restless state. _Maybe making the most of unrestricted movement before the Batman caught him again_, she smiled to herself.

Wondering what had caused the corner of her mouth to twitch, the Joker nudged a dress at the end of the bed with his foot.

'You can wear that tonight. You're other clothes are…well, I don't want to hurt your feelings but…,' he smiled. They both knew he wasn't really concerned about insulting her taste in clothes and strangely Harleen couldn't help but smile a little as they shared a joke without a word. _Oh, it was so easy to be near him when he was like this; like the man who had been restrained safely in Arkham._

She picked up the long simple black dress. She had been saving it for a special occasion. _Well, tonight was going to be special and not something she'd forget…if she lived through it._ The reality of the situation became apparent again, and her smile faded.

'Where am I going?'

The Joker sighed heavily, rolled his eyes for the second time, 'Asking questions all the time! You remind me of someone.'

'Who?'

'What?'

_God! He was so easily distracted._ 'Who do I remind you of?'

'Oh, a nobody but_ he_ is full of questions and riddles. An amateur.'

He became silent again and realising that he had finished with the conversation, Harleen looked down at her dress and then at the bag. She decided to dress first as the sight of clothes made her conscious off her near nakedness. She hadn't really thought about it but now her mind wondered exactly how long he had been in the bathroom before he spoke? _He would have seen everything! _

Picking it up, she looked at him but he made no inclination that he was going to turn his head. She looked towards the door.

'I'll just go get chan…'

'No. You. Won't.' he stated flatly then grinned. 'You don't want to risk another 'accident'. It's OK, I'll look but won't touch.'

Her whole body blushed crimson at his words but she decided not to press it. _Just be quick,_ her mind urged, _you've changed enough times at the gym to know how_. Turning her back to him Harleen stepped into the dress, wincing at the pain in her knee, and pulled it to her hips. Letting the towel fall to the floor she drew the thick straps up to her shoulders and reached behind to pull the zip but it moved before she could. He was true to his word as he closed the dress, he didn't touch her, but the close heat from his body and the warmth of his breath at her neck caused her own body to seek its source and unwittingly, she leant backwards.

Before they could meet, he moved away. _She was pretty yes, she was clever…compared to a pigeon…and he could endure her company for as long as it took to torment the Bats, but this impulsive reaction to be next to her and touch her in little ways was clearly a habit that needed 'stabbing in the bud'_._ She was just part of the plan._

_Arrgh!_ Harleen thought quietly, _if she didn't die by his hand soon or somehow else, then this torment would kill her._ Internally she promised herself that if she did survive and escape him then she would confide in Dr. Leland and get professional help to cure her of her obsession. _She was a victim of his grooming and manipulation,_she reasoned_, that was all and like Guy had pointed out, she hadn't 'done it' for three months._

The Joker looked at the clock again…she needed to hurry up.

'So what will it be princess? Vanity or soul?'

Harleen understood what he meant. She started to fill the bag with photos and her High School Year book. Next she pulled out a small box from under the bed and removed old letters and childhood toys. Quickly adding a few more things, she felt satisfied that she had remembered everything she held dear, secretly believing it wasn't the last time she would see her apartment, and turned round to find that she was alone.

However she could hear him moving about in the bathroom. Without hesitation she took the opportunity to slip on some underwear, thought about it, then put on another two pairs just in case she wouldn't be home for a while.

The Joker returned wearing his socks and holding her wine glass, full with water. He looked at the clock behind her for the third time.

'Right, you're nearly ready. Just dry your hair first.'

Harleen put her hand to her head. Her long hair had waved slightly but was almost dry. 'It's OK, I don't need to.'

'Dry. It.' he spoke through gritted teeth, clearly irritated.

Her eyes widened as she watched his expression darken at her refusal. _How did she ever forget to fear him?_ Then calmly he moved his arm upwards and poured the glass of water over her head, wetting her hair thoroughly.

Turning he walked out of the room and closed the door.

'Take your time.'

* * *

Guy knocked outside the apartment, then waited for a response whilst holding a large pizza box; spicy Tex Mex, Harleen's favourite. After a minute he tried the handle. The door was locked so he knocked again and then pulled out his own key. He was glad to be walking back into their home even though he thought a break would have done her some good.

However after her text, which had seemed a bit odd compared to her normal style, _'Hi, sorry about earlier, I was a bitch, come home. I'll make it up to you. See you at 8. Bring food._' he was glad that she had come to her senses. He knew he would still have to do some apologising for his own actions but there were serious changes she would have to make first. _Like getting over that freak!_

Once inside Guy closed the door and heard the sound of Harleen's hairdryer coming from the bedroom. Stepping forward he felt hard objects press into the sole of his shoe and looking down, he saw Harleen's collection of keys spread out on the floor. Tthe bowl they were normally kept in was upturned amongst them.

Wondering how it had happened he moved to the table to set the box down and pick them up. However he forgot about the keys once he saw a long, purple trench coat, hung over the back of a chair. He knew that he recognised it but from where? It wasn't Harleen's or his for sure and it had some suspicious looking dark stains along the sleeves and hem. _Definitely not his!_ Without getting to close he could smell it too. It smelt of burnt matches, like sulphur, and gasoline.

As he set the box down his attention was drawn to their daily newspaper. There were some illegible markings and the words 'HA HA HA' scrawled over the headline; which read **Day 10 Psycho Clown Still Lose**. Beneath was a black and white image of the Joker taken from a CCTV camera, wearing his infamous… purple…

Guy moved to run, shouting Harleen's name, but before he could an arm grabbed him from behind, holding him like a vice as it pulled him hard into its owner's chest. At the same time he felt a cold sting at his neck as a blade pierced his skin; a warm trickle of blood left the cut and ran towards his collarbone.

'So glad you could make it…Guy' the Joker drawled in his ear. 'And thank you for bringing the party food.'

Guy breathed shallowly, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead, his fear forbidding him to speak. He could still hear the hair dryer in the bedroom. _Does she know he's here?! _ Guy prayed for Harleen to come out. _T__hey could fight the Joker together or she could call the cops!_

However, Guy's momentary hope came to an end as the Joker spun him round effortlessly and moved the blade to the corner of his mouth; his other hand gripping the back of Guy's neck.

'You remind me of my brother..' the Joker started as he licked at the scars about his mouth, ' You see there were two of us, my brother and me, but our mother, she had her favourite, and he was _it_.' he looked upwards as if recalling a memory, 'And one year, at Christmas I wanted this toy. I had been good all year and I knew I would be getting it. But my brother, he wanted something more _expensive_ and well, our mother couldn't afford both, so she bought his. And I. Was. Jealous…' the Joker growled, his eyes now firmly fixed on Guys. 'So... jealous as I was...I took it and broke it into a thousand little pieces. My brother cried and my mother beat me savagely but it didn't matter, it was broken and it couldn't be fixed after what _I'd_ done, so they let me keep it and you know what… it was the best toy I ever owned.'

'Where's Harley?' Guy finally managed to speak

The Joker's eyes flashed with a dark light, his smile stretching wide across his gruesome face.

'You really shouldn't touch things that don't belong to you.'

Mercilessly, he pushed the knife into Guys mouth and drew it up towards the left ear, the blade impossibly sharp as it sliced through his flesh with ease. Guy screamed and struggled as the Joker drew the blade up the other side of before releasing him.

Hearing the screams, Harleen opened the door and ran out of the bedroom, stopping at the end of the hall to take in the scene. Guy was on his knees, his hands hovering about his face as blood and saliva bubbled between the cuts, his tears running down to mix with them. He groaned and tried to speak but she couldn't understand his words. He didn't dare move his jaw or tongue, fearful that he would tear the skin further.

Bile rose in Harleen's throat and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Lurching forwards, she knelt before him, her face consumed with fear and pity. The Joker raised his eyebrows at her reaction but allowed her the time to see what had become of her former lover. With an 'excuse me', he passed between them and moved to the table where he lifted the lid of the pizza box and picked up a slice.

Harleen looked up at him in horror as he casually ate, licking the ends of his fingers when he'd finished. Reading about his crimes was one thing, curled up on the couch at home or behind a solid, professional table at work. But the reality…was terrible, awful, evil…but then why couldn't she stop looking at Guys wounds with…curiosity?

Another groan from Guy snapped her out of her trance, but not before the Joker had noticed the look on her face, a look that he recognised in himself.

Harleen glanced at her phone resting on the kitchen counter. She wanted to call an ambulance but would he let her? The knife was still in his hand and though he was eating he was watching them very closely.

'He needs help!'

The Joker bent sideways and peered at Guys face.

'Yeah poor guy,' he said as he prodded at one of the cuts, causing Guy to scream again, 'they'll itch badly when they heal and Claire won't think him so pretty now.'

Harleen couldn't hide her surprise. _How did he know about that?!_

'You're right,' the Joker continued, 'It would be cruel to leave him like this.'

Before Harleen could react, he swiftly drew his blade across Guy's throat.


	9. Lost

**Some of you may notice a line in here from the amazing Joker blogs which I love too much to not include and it seemed right for where J/H are headed. Also, one of the characters that I am including in this story, Croc based on Killer Croc, comes from the non-canon graphic novel, **_**Joker**_**, written by Brian Azzarello. So, I have to add that as sorry as I am, I don't own this character and I still don't own the Joker/Harleen or anything Batman related. Such is life :(  
**

* * *

'Ca-dinka-dinka-dinka-dink. Da li la li la di um', sang the Joker under his breath as he strolled casually down the hall, the plastic bin bag full of Harleen's most important possessions in one hand and a lit candle from the bathroom in the other.

Dropping the bag at Harleen's feet, narrowly missing the darkening pool of blood which had spread across the floor, he carried on towards the filing cabinet. Pulling open the top drawer he removed one of the many folders containing his therapy notes and put it to the candle's flickering flame. Immediately it caught fire and curled upwards with the heat as the Joker tossed it back in with the candle.

When he had entered the room, Harleen had caught the scent of vanilla and she became consciously aware again. Until then, her mind had shut down, deserted her. She would never forget the sight of the Joker's knife passing through Guy's throat . _Never... even though it made her sick_.

Yet, her eyes hadn't moved away from Guy, _no not Guy_, it was his blood she had been staring at, the expression of her face as blank as her mind. The bright, red liquid had spread towards her bare feet and worked its way between her toes. She wiggled them slightly. It was so warm and until the candle had entered all she could smell was its strong coppery scent. She really did feel sick but it wasn't enough to make her turn her head or close her dry eyes. She was mesmerised and it disturbed her.

The Joker walked past her again, heading towards the kitchen's oven but this time he paused and let his eyes travel up and down her body, finally resting his gaze at her feet. He nodded his head as if in agreement with himself.

'Black and red really suits you Harlequin.'

It was the sound of his voice that enabled Harleen to turn her head and focus on something else, that something being his heavy lidded eyes. _Sick bastard_ she thought but she couldn't bring herself to say it, for at the same time her body was betraying her and the situation. Yet again she became aroused at the sound of his name for her and in that moment she hated no one but herself.

The Joker could see that Harleen was struggling with an internal battle and he delighted in the effect he so easily had on her. However, he wanted to see a bit more animation in her face. Smiles he loved, her frowns even more so but truthfully he didn't care how her face fell as long it was in response to him and it was never blank…never indifferent.

He lightly slapped her cheek.

'Wakey wakey. Time to go!' Then he pointed at her bag. 'I'm no gentleman Harleen, carry your own crap.'

She blinked from the contact but didn't protest. Instead, picking up the bag, she stepped away to the door, leaving small bloody toe prints behind her.

The Joker grabbed the sides of the cooker and grunted as he pulled it out of place. Leaning over the top, he yanked hard on the gas pipe until it came lose. Harleen heard a sharp hiss as gas escaped into the room and with a sinking heart she knew she would never see her home again.

Finished with the oven, the Joker opened one of the cupboards lining the kitchen wall to reveal the apartments boiler. Pausing to see how he could open it he shrugged, raised his knife and cut two pipes that ran from the bottom of the white box into the wall. There was another sharp hiss.

Turning round, he walked swiftly to the table and threw his coat on. Its orange, satin lining, flashed brilliantly and Harleen looked nervously from it to the filing cabinet. The smoke and flames were rising rapidly towards the ceiling. Suddenly the smoke alarm came to life and its high pitched beep filled her ears but it didn't seem to disturb the Joker. Instead he reached inside his coat and removed a 'joker' playing card and tucked it in the collar of Guy's shirt.

Then he skipped over him and clapped his hands in glee as he joined Harleen at the door. Putting his arm around her shoulders he squeezed tightly as he surveyed his handiwork. Harleen refused to look at his smiling face, she was beginning to distrust her reactions around him.

However the Joker looked down at her. 'You know you really need to smile more, hmmm, this is after all, all for you. I mean, Guy would probably still be alive if you hadn't battered those beautiful long lashes at me eh? So really, you should be glad I'm clearing up your mess!'

With that he grabbed her small wrist and dragged her away.

* * *

The explosion was bigger and brighter than she had truly thought it would be.

Sat safely inside the Joker's battered, black sedan, Harleen involuntarily shrank back at the heat from the flames, as they burst through the windows of her lost home. Parked cars rocked by the explosion alarmed in protest but Harleen could still hear the screams and shouts of her panicked neighbours, their faces appearing at windows up and down the street. But above all she could hear the Joker laughing freely next to her, tears streaming down his face and filling the gaps between his scars. Without care he turned the car into the street, clipping one of the parked cars and accelerated.

Harleen turned to fasten her seat belt as his careless driving which was gathering speed, made her anxious for her safety but she found that it was gone. It had been cut away.

It was too much. It was all just too much and she laughed. She just couldn't help it! _Oh god could this night get any worse?! Of course it could! And it will! You've been abducted by __a narcissitic, psychopathic, schizophrenic clown! A clown that you have directly encouraged to have feelings for you just because he was safely locked up and it was all exciting! _

Harleen laughed harder and her own eyes started to water. She didn't notice that the Joker's own mirth had died down or that he was watching her with a fascinated stare. He knew she couldn't be laughing for the same reason as he had but that didn't matter right now. It was just wonderful to hear and for the first time his mind thought of the possibility that there could be more for him in this plan. Initially it was all about taunting the Batman until he got bored, but this, well this was just a delight! Perhaps he could corrupt her enough that she too would laugh and share his enthusiasm for fireworks and destruction! Someone else would be in on the joke. _Now that would be fun!_

As they continued to drive Harleen regained control of her thoughts and her laughter stopped. Luckily, it seemed like the Joker had only sped away to create some distance between himself and the burning building, as he now drove steadily, even stopping at red lights. She smiled again. Everything seemed so surreal and absurd. She needed to ground herself so, trying not to move her feet, she looked at the bag that was placed between her legs.

Since getting into the car, Harleen had tried to keep her feet still as the passenger floor was littered with empty beer cans, fast food wrappers and their remains, which were squashed into the fabric. It was disgusting and the blood on her toes was now starting to crust over which didn't help her unsettled mind. The memory of her bath seemed an age away.

In an attempt to gain some control over her unclean state, Harleen lifted her dress slightly and rubbed at the red paint on her knee.

Thankfully, it was now only sore when touched but that wasn't what she thought of. The evidence of the Joker's kiss had made her stomach churn with guilt. Logically she knew it wasn't her fault that Guy was dead but _oh god, the Joker was right_. If she had just been more professional, if she hadn't told him anything about her personal life, about Guy! _Why had she?!_ But as she thought it she knew why; she had wanted to see his reaction, she had wanted to see him jealous.

However, she recalled, his face hadn't betrayed anything and she'd assumed he didn't care. Yet now she knew the truth. _Oh god! And to think Guy had come back like she'd hoped, to apologise, to ask for her forgiveness._ She should have answered his text message when she'd had the chance. But it was all too late. Guy was dead and she was alive, sitting next to the man who'd killed him.

She had betrayed Guy from the moment she met the Joker, and now…she feared…at some point, she would betray his memory too.

The Joker suddenly laughed out loud and slapped the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. _Fuck she was a moody one! _he thought after glancing at her frowning face. The sound made Harleen jump nervously and the Joker laughed more.

He wanted to talk

'You have a lot of photos of your family Harls. See them much?'

She didn't reply.

'I asked a question.' he stated, his voice dropping slightly. Sensing the subtle change in his tone Harleen attempted to talk.

'Um no, not really.'

'Why?'

She shrugged, she didn't want to talk to him, and definitely not about her own life anymore. The Joker's temper was beginning to rise at her attempt to shut him out. He reached over and placed a hand on her bruised knee, gently stroking it back and forth with his thumb. Harleen tensed despite its harmlessness but she knew it was a threat; talk or else.

She sighed heavily and spoke in a non-committal tone.

'I'm usually busy, but I intend to.'

'Ah. So the over kill of photos in your living room and bedroom are compensation for being a lousy daughter.'

'What?! I'm not! I call every week.' She replied defensively.

'Every week?'

'If I remember,' she conceded, 'but definitely every two weeks.'

The Joker was silent then lent towards her and winked slyly.

'Just had other things on your mind.'

Harleen kept her face blank not wanting him to know the truth, that everyone in her life had gradually been pushed to the side since they had met. However, the fidgeting motion of her fingers as they twirled about each other in her lap told the Joker he was right.

'And your Dad is a cop?' She looked at him with wide eyes but he smiled, 'the graduation pic, he's in his uniform.'

He saw the relief in her face but couldn't resist the impulse to scare her.

'We should call in, meet the in-laws.'

'No!' she shouted before she could stop herself! _Please no! _

The Joker laughed at her fear but patted her leg reassuringly.

'Yeah, maybe not. He probably wouldn't be happy with my intentions for his only daughter.'

Silence settled between them again, as Harleen's heart rate gradually slowed back to normal.

'Where are we going?' she asked.

'Home princess.'

'Where's that?'

'It's where the hurt is.'

Harleen sighed and turned her face to the window, rolling her eyes. After the mention of her parents, her fear was now mixed with anger. He was starting to irritate her.

'I'm getting bored now Joker. Where are you taking me?'

He took his hand away from her leg. He hadn't liked hearing his name and the word 'bored' in the same sentence, especially from her.

'It's where we first met, a time and place that I will always think of fondly.'

'Arkham?!' Harleen gasped, 'Arkham Asylum?!

'Of course!'

Her mind raced. She just couldn't think far ahead enough. There was no chance of predicting why he wanted to go there but whatever the reason it was probably bad and she sighed again, and would probably include the escape of some serious patients and the death of fellow staff.

Without warning, the Joker swung the car in to a dark alley and Harleen only just managed to grab the door's armrest, before she fell sideways on to his lap.

Once the car stopped he got out, leaving the door wide open and walked a few paces ahead. The cars main beam illuminated the figures of two men; one of average build though shorter than the Joker and the other…! Harleen instantly felt uncomfortable at the sight of him. He was huge, his muscular arms and broad chest were bigger than anyone's she'd ever seen at her local gym. But what really made her stare, mouth agape, was the condition of his skin. She narrowed her eyes as she leant forwards in her seat and rested her hand on the dashboard. She had seen correctly. His skin was so deformed that it looked like he had scales all over it. _He looked like he had reptilian skin!_ Her uncomfortable feeling only increased as the three of them returned to the car.

The Joker grinned as he got in. She hadn't tried to run away._ Was she even aware of it?_

When the other two men got in the car, Harleen nearly choked on the stench of cigarette smoke and the smell of something rotten that she didn't recognise. The car dipped down at the back where the larger of the two sat.

'Who's the skinny bitch?' he asked; his voice deep and gruff.

The Joker didn't answer straight away. Instead his smile broadened despite the searing glare he gave the 'scaly' man in the rear view mirror.

'This is Dr. Harleen Quinzell, Croc,' he answered, his voice overly polite and soft, 'She is our honoured guest for the night.'

A deep laugh rumbled upwards from Crocs stomach. He wasn't bothered by the obvious displeasure he had caused and he lit a cigarette nonchalantly, before turning his eyes to the man sat next to him.

'What'd you think?'

The other man pushed his large rimmed glasses up his nose and panted heavily, clearly trying to control some urge that was racking his body and mind. He spoke in a squeaky little voice and it made Harleen's skin crawl.

'She's very pretty, she… she smells good.'

The Joker swiftly reversed the car back on to the main street and joined the traffic.

He leant sideways and his scarred lips tickled at the sensitive skin of Harleen's ear, as he whispered

'Bored now doc?'


	10. Friends

**The following characters are the property of DC comics, but this is all non-canon description about them as it fits this story better.  
**

* * *

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham took a sip from his delicately engraved glass, which he had partially refilled with his favourite ten year old scotch. The director and current owner of Arkham Asylum had taken to drinking every evening since the summer of last year; the summer in which his wife had died unexpectedly. The way she had died had left him feeling bitter but the scotch saved him from the sleepless nights he would suffer without it.

There was no one to blame, no one to hate and no one to bring to justice. She had died by accident alone, falling down the stairs of their large, family home, with a bundle of laundry in her arms. Her neck had fatally twisted the wrong way as she tumbled and the only mercy was that she died instantl. So the autopsy said.

He took another sip.

The house was too large and too empty since her death and the children were all grown and had flown the nest a long time ago. Therefore every day that he was at the asylum, which was at least six days a week, he would spend a few hours alone in his office savouring a drink or two before he drove home and went straight to bed.

He didn't want to spend anytime haunting the rooms of that house alone.

Of late Dr. Joan Leland, one of his most specialised employees, had taken to joining him a few evenings a week, but she would only drink water or tea. Dr. Arkham knew she stayed now and then to keep him company and 'keep an eye on him'. She had been good friends with his wife and it was a comfort, even if at times she would chastise him for his workload, the amount of which he had steadily increased over the last few months.

However, he knew perfectly well what he was capable of and he had no intention of descending into madness like his Uncle Amadeus Arkham by immersing himself in his work. No, he was too mentally robust for that and not to mention naturally stubborn... according to his late wife.

All the same, it was nice to have someone worry a little about him, especially a woman like Dr. Leland whom he respected greatly. Yet it didn't stop him from ignoring her advice.

Finishing his second glass with a gulp, he smiled in agreement at Dr. Leland's last words, before she sighed, knowing that he wasn't really agreeing to the prospect of taking a well-deserved holiday. Defeated, she sat back in to the deep seat of a high-backed, leather armchair and changed the subject.

'This reminds me. Dr. Harleen Quinzell was informed of her suspension this morning and left in the late hours of the afternoon. Hopefully, when she returns, she will be able to refocus her energies and demonstrate those talents which earned her such a distinguished grade at medical school.'

Dr. Arkham placed his glass on a small table next to his armchair and steepled his fingers, pressing their tips to his mouth.

'Mmmm. She seems a little ambitious to me. I recall feeling uneasy that such a young doctor would be so eager to work with a patient like the Joker. If I had known about her radical request, that he be allowed outdoor recreation so early in his therapy, I would have denied it.'

This was a subtle admonishment directed at Dr. Leland but she took it in her stride. She had wanted to trust Harleen's evaluation of the Joker and had had high hopes for her career, believing that she was succeeding with the Joker where others had failed. Of course, with hindsight, they now knew the Joker had played Harleen from the beginning to gain early privileges. Furthermore, if the Joker were readmitted to the hospital in the future, Dr. Quinzell could never be reassigned as his therapist. He had clearly had an effect on her.

'You're right Jeremiah,' in this setting they always used first names, they were friends as well as colleagues, 'and sadly it leads me to question her capability as a psychiatrist in the West wing. Perhaps too much has been asked from her so early in her career? The only other psychiatrist before the age of thirty that has been assigned to the West wing, with our most dangerous patients, was you!'

Jeremiah chuckled. 'Yes I was glad for it as I was ambitious but don't forget I come from a family of great psychiatrists. It's in my blood to excel at what I do. Without meaning to offend, Dr. Quinzell cannot be compared to me directly.'

Dr. Leland smiled at his words but she could not deny the truth of them. Since he had taken over the asylum the number of patient escapes had dropped dramatically and most of the patients with minor mental illnesses had been rehabilitated and released back into Gotham. She had always admired his belief that all patients could be cured someday and it gave a true purpose to their work. She also knew it was a belief that Harleen held.

Referring back to Dr. Leland's question, Dr. Arkham spoke again.

'I have thought that too. This has been a terrible embarrassment for us, the Joker's escape. Especially as he has been here less than a year and I see no sign of his imminent recapture. And the masked vigilante, the Batman, has disappeared from the face of the Earth! Yes, I think it would be wise for Dr. Quinzell to be taken from the West wing and be assigned to less prolific patients on Ward Two. A few years there will help ground her and increase her experience at a sensible pace. Then she could move back up to the West wing if all goes well.'

Dr. Leland nodded in agreement but couldn't stop a frown creasing her forehead. She felt pity for the young doctor as it would be a terrible blow when she returned in a fortnight and possibly detrimental to her career. However, Arkham Asylum was home to some of the most criminally insane patients of Gotham and second chances were not readily given.

'As for the Joker,' Jeremiah continued, 'I think he has finally outstayed his welcome.'

Joan's eyebrows rose at that. Dr. Arkham had never refused a patient in all his years as director, no matter how impossible the patient seemed.

'He is clearly unwilling to co-operate and I cannot risk another member of staff trying to help him, as he has no intention of accepting that help. Therefore, our building is not sufficiently secure to hold him and as he insists on behaving in a way that would require twenty four hour lock down, he must spend the rest of his days in Blackgate prison. We do not have the funds to waste on those who would use this place as a guest house.'

Despite his words, the doctor had not lost his temper. He spoke matter of factly, and Dr. Leland thought she could hear a hint of disappointment in his voice, disappointment that they had been unable to 'reach' the Joker's psyche.

With a sigh, Dr. Arkham looked up at the ornate clock which sat above the office's fireplace and saw that it was nearly ten o'clock.

'You are most definitely above secretary status Joan but would you be so kind as to write a few notes on what we have discussed. My memory fails me some days and I intend to inform the district attorney of my decision tomorrow morning. The Joker will never see Arkham Asylum again.'

Dr. Leland smiled kindly at him and moved to his desk where she wrote a few lines on a notepad. She hadn't taken offense at his request as she could see him rubbing eyes and forehead. He was getting a headache. He needed a break.

However, the pen had barely left the page when the door of Dr. Arkham's office was flung open and the two psychiatrists were faced with a heavily wheezing guard, panic written all over his face. He tried to speak but his words were constantly interrupted by his need to breathe.

'The alarms… disabled…the patients in the West wing… lose…all doors open!' he took a deep breath, his heart was pounding fiercely in his chest, 'I can't get anyone…on…the radio… we don't know where he his.'

'Where who is?!' shouted Dr. Arkham, he was becoming exasperated with the man's inability to speak and his own rising panic was making him very uneasy.

'The Joker!' the guard almost shouted back and his eyes widened at his own words. 'He's come back…with…with others and…' he looked at Dr. Leland as if seeing her for the first time,

'…and Dr. Quinzell!'


	11. Arkham Asylum

**Wow! I really struggled writing this one! I much prefer writing about the Joker's perspective or Harleen's, than action but I had to attempt it. I'm going to be much happier writing the next chapter as Harleen's sanity will be on the edge, and all it will need is a little push!**

**Scrambled-dry: Thank you for all your reviews they make my day! I'm glad you liked my attempt at a one-shot. I'm not sure it was totally in keeping with his character but he does sing little tunes to himself in the film so he could possibly like music and being a bit mad, he might like it more than the average person!**

* * *

During the drive to Arkham Asylum Harleen Quinzell had learnt two things.

Firstly, Croc's companion was called Jervis and he seemed to have a strange obsession with Lewis Carroll's 'Alice in Wonderland'. This was confirmed when he screamed 'It's Mad Hatter!' after Croc had used his real name, and she thought he was going to have a seizure when the Joker called him Teapot. However, he didn't seem to have a problem using incorrect names for others, as he had referred to her as 'Alice' twice already. Not that she minded too much. She would rather at least one of the Joker's accomplices didn't remember her name.

That led her to the second thing she had learnt, in the half hour drive to the asylum but it was more of a self-admittance. She was insanely grateful for the Joker's presence. _Yes, you'd have to be insane to feel that,_ her mind argued but the sight of Croc and Jervis had only reminded her of the patients she was about to face, lose, in the asylum. All that mattered was surviving each moment until she was rescued or could escape.

As they approached the place she hadn't expected to see for another two weeks, the doctor firmly believed her only chances of survival depended on the Joker. She didn't hold much hope for the asylum guards.

As the car stopped outside the only gates enabling access to the grounds, Jervis opened his door and walked towards the guardhouse. Even though he walked crookedly and his hair was a bright, red tangle on the top of his head, he appeared in the dark the most 'normal' of the three criminals. Harleen couldn't hear what Jervis said to the guard but she assumed things weren't moving quickly enough for the Joker, as he started to impatiently tap his gloved fingers on the steering wheel.

_Perhaps the guard suspected something and was going to phone the police?!_ she thought but with sickening disappointment, Harleen watched Jervis return to the car and behind him she saw the lone guard pocket a large wad of money.

As the gates opened and the car rolled forward, the Joker's side window slid down and he smoothly retrieved a Glock pistol from under his seat. Passing the guard he pulled the trigger and shot him through the chest. Harleen couldn't deny a sly sense of satisfaction as they continued along the gravelled road towards the West wing.

At its entrance, Croc and Jervis jumped out and ran up to the door, the gravel crunching beneath their feet. The Joker looked at Harleen, his eyes popping with excitement as though it were Christmas.

'And you say I don't take you anywhere!' he joked poorly as he opened his own door and followed the other men. Harleen watched from her seat as Croc stood back and kicked the building's heavy door inwards. Swiftly the Joker grabbed Jervis's collar and pushed him inside as he fired his own gun over the top of madman's shoulder.

Flashes of gunfire lit up the darkness outside but it wasn't for long. In moments all was silent and only the glow of the ceilings lights could be seen. Then she heard the Joker's voice shout from within. It was a commanding tone she had only heard him use once and then it had been directed at a hostage on a tape shown by GCN.

'HARLEY!'

Without hesitation, she left the car and ran quickly to the West wing door, wincing with each step as the gravel dug into her bare feet, only slowing down as she entered the hall inside. The bodies of two guards were slumped over a table, their spilt coffee mugs knocked to the floor. Bullet holes wept blood from their backs, and showed Harleen they hadn't had time to respond.

A small TV set hung from the ceiling, tuned to GCN and despite being faced with more death, the current news article caught her interest. Moving closer towards the screen she realised why. A reporter was stood at the end of the street where her former apartment, her home, had been and in the background Harleen could see two fire trucks fighting to put out flames from the explosion. The fire had spread upwards and now consumed two more apartments. Presented so calmly to her by the reporter, Harleen felt nothing. It just didn't seem real.

Behind her, Jervis pulled one of the guards to the floor and stripped him of his uniform before dressing himself with it. Shouldering his shotgun, Croc walked into an office adjacent to the hall and disabled the alarm system for the West wing. Then with the butt of his gun, he broke the padlock of a small wall cabinet and opened its doors. Inside he ran his finger along the headings for various keys that were stored inside, until he found the one he wanted. Stopping at the heading 'Master Key', he unhooked it and turned to re-join the others before reloading his gun.

Harleen was about to watch the report again, as GCN set to repeat itself, but the Joker walked into her line of sight and stooped slightly until her eyes met his. Taking hold of one of her hands, he bought it up to her face and pressed the black handle of his switchblade into hers.

'Now, things are going to get a bit crazy in here…OK… but I don't think you're stable enough to use a gun,' he looked at the knife in her hand 'so, here's a little loan just in case. Now, be a good girl, do as I say and you'll be just fine.'

Harleen looked at the knife as he spoke, its blade retracted. Running her thumb along the handle's edge she found a small catch and with lightning speed the blade appeared. The unblemished steel reflected the yellow lights from the hall, like stars, and again Harleen found herself mesmerized by something so close to death. She had known that she would betray Guy's memory and she could barely recognise herself as she felt no revulsion holding the knife which had cut his throat only hours earlier.

The Joker watched her with smiling eyes before leaning in closely, his scars at the corner of his mouth brushed her soft cheek.

'You're very important to me Harlequin.' He whispered.

The gesture and his words chased away any rising feelings of remorse for Guy and it took all of Harleen's self-control to stop her head from turning to catch his mouth with hers. Instead she parted her lips to whisper 'Thank you' but before she could, he had already moved away to talk to Jervis.

'They're here,' the Joker said pointing to a spot on a crumpled piece of paper, which held a rough floor plan of the main building. 'Don't let them leave, don't kill them… then you get paid.' Flicking his wrist, a small antique pocket watch dropped out on a silver chain from his coat sleeve and Jervis stared at it avidly, his throat emitting gurgling noises of desire as spittle ran down his chin.

'Well then…down the rabbit hole!' the Joker continued as he roughly pushed Jervis towards a corridor which led away to the centre of the building.

With Croc in front, the remaining three turned in the opposite direction and made their way through the halls leading up to the main holding area for the most dangerous and psychopathic patients. As Croc opened each gated door that was staggered through the building, Harleen noticed that his hands where tremblingly slightly. _God!_ she thought, _he's afraid too!_ And she gripped the handle of her borrowed knife even tighter.

However Harleen was unaware that she had gradually stopped trembling herself, despite the sudden explosions of gunfire from Croc or the Joker as they passed through each corridor. Not one person they met along the way, guard, doctor, or late night cleaner were spared and Harleen had lost count. It could be ten, it could be twenty, either way her mind just couldn't keep up with it anymore and was kindly sparing her nerves by invoking temporary apathy.

Yet there was one person on her mind as they neared the Joker's destination. It was one of her patients, Pamela Isley. Apart from her dangerous attraction towards the Joker, Pamela had been the only other patient who Harleen could say she felt an unprofessional attachment to. Pamela was incredibly clever and could have passed for a sane person any day of the week. However her obsession for the protection of the natural environment, namely plants and her lethal contempt for humans had led to her patient status. Harleen knew that Pamela was capable of looking after herself, as two years ago she had killed a guard who had tried his luck whilst she was in isolation. But this was different. She would be alone with dozens of other dangerous patients, all male.

At the last gate before the patient's cells, Croc shot dead one of the two guards manning the door and the Joker shot the other in the stomach. The guard doubled over in pain, uselessly firing his gun into the floor, too slow to react when the criminals had appeared round the corner. Swiftly Croc took hold of him and twisted the guard's arm behind his back, causing him to scream as his agony increased.

Walking over slowly the Joker knelt down and pressed the hot barrel of his gun into the guard's cheek. The skin started to burn and blister and the guard screamed again as he tried to pull his face away.

'Shh shh shh.' the Joker consoled him as shouts from the disturbed patients reached his ears, 'You're spoiling my surprise. Now… listen… Croc here has the key for every door in this hotel but we need a few pesky numbers to open these ones and you know what they are don't you…,' he looked at the guards ID card, '…Paul.'

The guard continued to groan in pain and impatiently, the Joker glanced at Croc. Croc pulled the man's arm higher up his back and he opened his mouth to scream but the Joker pushed the gun into his mouth.

'All you fat lazy guards, so brave with your boots and fists when the…when the _freaks_ are locked up but look at you now… hmmm…squealing like a little pig. Now I'm going to give you one more chance to tell me the codes or Croc is going to have his supper early, and it's never steak.'

Harleen's stomach flipped at his last words. That was the smell on Croc's breath. The smell that permeated through his sweating pores and clung to his clothes. It was the stench of rotten meat and _oh god! The tremor of his hands!_ He was a cannibal.

The Joker removed his gun and the guard gasped out the codes. Standing up, he pressed the gun to the guard's temple. 'Wise choice.' he said then fired. Harleen stared at the dead man blankly. Her mind was working desperately to ignore this too.

Croc opened the last gate and this time the Joker led the way, punching four digit codes in to small keypads positioned next to each cell.

Harleen's fear had now peaked beyond reason and she walked so closely behind him that sometimes her foot caught the back of his heel. The Joker didn't seem to mind though and when he stopped suddenly outside the cell of the former doctor, Jonathan Crane, he barked out a laugh as Harleen bumped in to him. _Oh how he wished the Batman was here to see this, it was all too easy to break her._

As the door opened of the psychotic doctor, known also as Scarecrow, a blood curdling scream could be heard from one of the cells that had been previously opened. Croc was inside settling an old score with one of the patients. Harleen inched even closer to the Joker.

'Crane.' the Joker smiled

'Clown.' Dr. Crane replied, arching his eyebrows contemptuously.

'You've returned to Arkham by your own free will,' he continued, 'I see you're even crazier than we thought.'

'We?' the Joker feigned surprise, 'You still think you're part of the team?' he pointed at Harleen.

The former doctor looked scornfully at her. 'She was never a worthy psychiatrist of Arkham. Just a pretty extra to keep you maniacs entertained. She has no vision.'

Dr. Crane's words had stung. They played on Harleen's insecurity, that she really wasn't that good and it was something she feared the other doctors felt; especially Dr. Leland.

'But I do.' The Joker winked. Dr. Crane snorted derisively.

'So what's the plan? Are you hoping the Batman will pay a visit tonight?'

'Not tonight, though it's been a while and I do miss our games. No, tonight is about choice. And I choose to share the fun with my closest friends.'

The Joker turned, done with the conversation and walked away fearlessly through the mingling patients. He didn't check to see if Harleen would follow, there was no doubt she would. But as she moved to follow the Joker, Dr. Crane grabbed her bare arm and pulled her towards himself. He sneered as he looked over her appearance with his ice blue eyes.

'So, what did it take to make you mad Harleen? Make you the Joker's pet.'

'I'm not mad, and I'm not his _pet_,' she replied with a shaky voice, aware that the Joker was getting further away, 'I'm his hostage.'

He smiled at her.

'Well I could agree with you, but then we'd both be wrong.'

Releasing her arm, he watched as she sprinted after the Joker, reaching him just as he entered the elevator that led up to the therapy suites. She hadn't seen Pamela and was glad for it. Hopefully she was in isolation for an offence that afternoon.

Croc joined them both just before the doors closed. Before she could stop herself, Harleen looked at his face and she wished she hadn't. His mouth and chin were smeared with blood and when he laughed at the horror in her eyes, she saw for the first time how unnaturally sharp his teeth were. As though they had been filed into points.

Again she lent in closely to the Joker.

'Aren't you having fun Harls?' he teased her darkly. She didn't know how to respond so she smiled slightly, she just wanted to get out of there and away from Croc.

Sensing her nervousness, the Joker slid his arm around her waist and hugged her body tightly into his, deliberately misinterpreting her anxiety.

'You prima donnas.' he tutted, 'Always impatient to perform. Well don't worry beautiful, you're up next.'


	12. Revelations

Behind black rimmed glasses, the guard's eyes darted about rapidly as he slowly walked in to Dr. Arkham's office. The two doctors had risen from their seats, trying to control their mounting panic after learning the Joker had returned to the asylum... purposefully. Moving swiftly, Dr. Arkham walked to his desk and reached out for the phone.

'Hopefully the phone lines still work.' he said more to himself than the other two, as he picked up the receiver and began dialling the emergency number.

'Doctor!' Dr. Leland shouted in a trembling voice.

Startled he stopped dialling and turned around, inhaling sharply at what he saw. The guard had taken hold of Dr. Leland, firmly gripping her arm as he pressed a small pistol in to her side. The guard looked pointedly at the phone in Dr. Arkham's hand and sensing he had no choice but to comply, the doctor slowly replaced the phone and held his hands outwards.

'It's OK.' he spoke, adopting a neutral tone as he took control of his nervousness. This wasn't the first time that he or Dr. Leland had been threatened during their careers, though never by a guard. However, now that he was looking properly, he suspected he wasn't one at all. The expression on the guards face was one that Dr. Arkham recognised in most of his patients and it was usually the sign of madness.

'As you may know my name is Dr. Arkham and this is Dr. Leland. Everything is OK and there is no need to worry.' As he spoke he was momentarily proud of how composed Dr. Leland appeared despite her initial reaction.

'We can talk about anything you want Mr..?'

The guard ignored Dr. Arkham as he continued to look about the room, yet mostly at the door he'd entered through. However the doctor persisted and hazarded a guess.

'I would just like to know your name and the doctor who works with you.' At this the guard looked at him with surprise.

'I don't belong here! I'm not from here! But you've got to stay still…and Alice.' As he said this he looked at Dr. Leland and pushed his nose into her black hair, inhaling deeply. Then he returned his gaze to the doorway.

'That's OK too. Is it possible for you to tell me your name?'

No response. The doctors looked at each other, wordlessly communicating with their eyes that this wasn't the normal reaction of an escaped patient. Usually they would have requested something by now or verbally threatened a life.

Hoping that the imposter had lied, and was only living out a manic hallucination, Dr. Arkham asked him another question.

'Is the Joker here? Is Dr. Quinzell here?'

This seemed to stress the fake guard and he gripped Dr. Leland even tighter as he moved the gun upwards, digging it into her ribs. She winced at the painful pressure but managed to stay still. She knew better than to provoke an unstable person with her own fears.

'Shut up! You've got to stay here and do what I say! No killing…just wait! Then you get paid!'

Before Dr. Arkham could think of a reply or decide if the guard was really hallucinating, a sudden explosion of gunfire made him jump. It sounded close enough to be on the same floor as the office, but a few corridors away. The colour drained from his face despite his calm exterior and Dr. Leland visibly shook.

The guard wasn't hallucinating.

'I can pay you,' Dr. Arkham spoke loudly, trying to get the man's attention again whilst keeping his tone even. The shots were getting closer, cutting short the screams of any unfortunate staff who were working late. 'Just let Dr. Leland and I leave now and I will pay you whatever he has promised.'

The guard was looking fixedly at the door and still ignored his words. Dr. Arkham ventured a step closer. _Could he get to the gun and somehow wrestle it from him?_

Dr. Leland's eyes said he should try.

'Can you hear me?' Dr. Arkham continued, as he inched closer, slowly extending his arm whilst watching the guard's face. He was still looking at the door and appeared oblivious to the doctor's slow movements.

'Listen to me. Let us go and you can have whatever it is you want. I'm a man of my word.'

'So am I.' sneered a voice at the door.

* * *

The Joker clapped his hands dramatically as he entered the office. He was grinning widely and walked with exaggerated ease around the room until he reached Jervis.

He could sense the tension, the fear in the room and it buzzed through him, exciting him in a way that most people searched for with extreme sports and drugs. _This way was so much easier, and cheaper!_ Dropping the corners of his mouth into a warm smile aimed at Jervis, he purposefully stood a little too close next to Dr. Leland, causing her to shrink back and drop her gaze to the floor.

'Well done Teapot! I see no one's been hurt…' Jervis had been smiling with anticipation when the Joker had arrived but now his body shook with rage at the perpetual taunt. However, the moment the Joker tossed the small pocket watch up in to the air in front of Jervis's face, he forgot the offence and released Dr. Leland's arm to catch it. He then moved away to lovingly examine it beneath one of the rooms lamps.

During this time, Harleen and Croc had followed the Joker in to the office. Croc closed the door and stood before it, holding his shotgun loosely at his side. Harleen, unsure of what the Joker expected her to do, stood alone in the centre of the room with her hands folded in front of her, still clasping the knife as she looked at the carpet nervously. The trauma from watching so many people die so mercilessly, especially on this floor where she had recognised all of their faces, had taken its toll and she felt herself withdrawing.

However, to Dr. Arkham her body language looked like a young girl about to be scolded.

Glancing briefly at Dr. Leland, the Joker spun round on his heel and stared at Dr. Arkham. He didn't like how stoic the doctor's expression was, or that he was trying to catch Harleen's eye.

'Are you OK Dr. Quinzell?' Dr. Arkham ventured. She didn't respond but bit her lip and he couldn't hide his shock when she glanced up to look at the Joker's face, as if to check his reaction.

'Oh she's just fine Jerry.' The Joker replied for her as he walked between them towards the desk. 'In fact I wouldn't worry about her at all when you have so many other things to be concerned about.'

Dr. Arkham followed him with his eyes and watched as the Joker rifled through the paperwork on his desk, pausing when he reached a small note.

It only took a moment to read and the Joker's mouth burst open, his recognisable high pitched laughter assaulting the ears of everyone as he doubled over and bounced on his heels. With a few paces he reached Dr. Arkham and filled the doctor's view with his painted face. His laughter was dying down as he pressed his lips together but it could still be heard in his throat and his voice as he spoke.

'No I wouldn't worry about Harleen's safety at all. She's never been better and never looked better… hmmm?' he gestured with his gun as he spoke, his finger always resting on the trigger. 'It really was cruel, forcing her to wear those dull, prim outfits day in, day out. No imagination!'

Everyone remained silent, wondering where the Joker was going with this. Harleen knew he said everything for a reason and she was afraid for the other doctors.

'Oh but that's a lie,' he continued. All laughter in his voice disappeared and his tone had dropped. 'You do have imagination and what did you dream up when you first saw our precious little doctor?' he lent in closely. All that Dr. Arkham could see was his piercing eyes surrounded by thick, black greasepaint.

'What did you think apart from the lewd thoughts of a lonely widower?' Dr. Arkham's jaw clenched at the insinuation but he managed to hold his tongue. 'You thought, if I can't use her pretty little body, I'll use her mind! So you plotted and threw the blind, innocent lamb to the wolf, all so you could get to me.'

The Joker looked over his shoulder and winked at Harleen. She was listening very closely, but still hadn't got it yet.

'So, one day you instruct her to sit in on Dr. Strange's pathetic attempt to connect with me, for her benefit of course…and I saw her.' he paused, looking upwards as if recalling a pleasant memory until his stare returned to Dr. Arkham and he wet his lips. 'Despite the oddness of it, you allowed a patient to dictate who would be his therapist. A patient…like me… was assigned by request, an inexperienced doctor. Though I'm sure she deserves all of the certificates she hangs so proudly in her office.' he finished sarcastically.

Harleen looked at Dr. Leland's face and was slightly relieved to see her confusion mirrored there. But Dr. Arkham's face expressed shame.

The Joker straightened up, his voice lighter as he walked backwards towards Harleen.

'Well, luckily for her, I enjoyed her babbling company and I stayed longer than I intended too, opening up and letting you all take a look at the workings of my mind,' he now stood alongside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. 'But she's fulfilled her role and failed by falling in love with her patient. So let's throw her out with the garbage.'

With that the Joker held the note up in front of Harleen's face. With an unsteady hand she took it from him and began to read.

Dr. Arkham became angry. 'That's not true, I took an educated risk and she did well, eager to become your therapist too. You are the only one who failed and have manipulated the mind of a young woman. Dr. Quinzell you must understand, we… '

'Oh really?!' the Joker interrupted, tearing the note from Harleen's hand before she could finish reading it. 'On Dr. Quinzell's return,' he read aloud, 'she is to be relieved of her position as junior psychotherapist in the West wing and hand over any current patients assigned to her. Dr. Quinzell will be part of the counselling team in Ward Two for the foreseeable future.' Why take away her other patients if it's my entire fault, Jerry?'

Harleen felt sick. It had all been a lie from the very beginning. Neither Dr. Arkham nor Dr. Leland had ever really thought she was a rising star in the field of psychology. Dr. Crane had been right. She was bait...pretty, stupid, gullible bait. And the Joker had known from the beginning and would have been laughing at her. _They were all laughing at her!_ _Her ambition was just a joke to them, a bad joke to be used in their games._ She hid her face behind her hands.

The Joker pointed at Dr. Arkham with his free hand, his mouth drawn up into a snarl.

'You're a schemer Jerry, and I _hate_ schemers.'

'Harleen…' Dr. Leland started but stopped as Harleen dropped her hands and flashed an accusing look at her. She believed that Dr. Leland hadn't been part of the initial plan, but the note, handwriting she recognised to be the doctor's, hurt deeply.

Seemingly happy that Harleen was 'up to speed' with what everyone else had already known, the Joker walked over to Croc, tucking his gun into one of the many hidden pockets of his coat. Drawing his hand out, he held a small, black book and flicked through the pages before tearing one out and handing the rest to the large thug. Harleen had turned to watch him, finding it impossible to look at anyone else, and her jaw dropped when she recognised what he held.

_It was her address book!_

'One for each, tell them Merry Christmas from their Uncle J.'

Harleen didn't have to imagine what the Joker meant. Croc was to take the book downstairs to all of the escaped mental patients and hand out the addresses of all her family and friends. _Her parents were in that book! No, no more, not my parents _her mind panicked and without thought, she gripped the handle of the switchblade tightly and leapt at Croc, bringing her arm down in a wide arc towards his neck.

Mistakingly, she had attacked him face on and Croc was rarely caught off guard. He brought the side of his shotgun up and blocked her, the impact causing pain to reverberate along her arm and she lost her grip on the blade. Swiftly, he swung the butt of the gun and it connected with the side of her head. The force knocked her back and she fell to the floor, blood instantly appearing at her hairline.

Dazed and in pain, the room seemed to spin before Harleen's eyes and she struggled to stay conscious. She was unaware that the Joker had moved behind Croc and had drawn out a sharply, honed vegetable peeler. Stamping hard in to the crook of his right leg, the Joker hooked his left arm around Croc's neck and forced him to his knees. He paused for a moment, holding the sharp implement in front of Croc's eyes then savagely gripped the man's jaw and twisted his head to the side. With slight pressure, he slowly moved the edge of the blade down Croc's neck, peeling away a layer of the hardened skin; skin that had formed into scales which couldn't be penetrated by a normal knife, not even the Joker's favourite.

As the strip of dead skin fell to the ground, the Joker released Croc and stepped back, smiling amiably as he pocketed the peeler. Croc stood up and revealed his sharp teeth in a false smile. He didn't need to touch the wound as he knew no blood had been drawn, but the message was clear. The Joker had creatively found a way to get past his natural armour and would kill Croc if he chose. Hurting Harleen would be a way to earn that death.

However, today it was only a warning and Croc was still a high player in the Joker's peculiar gang. Until the clown's luck ran out and then Croc would take that blade to him.

'Later' Croc said as he picked up his shotgun and opened the door. The Joker continued to smile at him. 'Call me!'

With Croc gone, he reassessed the room's situation. Thankfully the nutcase 'Mad Hatter' had put away his stupid trinket and was keeping a watchful eye on Dr. Arkham. The Joker wasn't too concerned about Dr. Leland. The woman looked set to pass out and he was pretty sure a simple 'boo' in her ear would see to that.

However, Dr. Arkham was still going strong. His eyes looked a little bit unsure but he was holding it together alright for an oldie. Which was why the Joker was pleased 'Teapot' was on the ball as Dr. Arkham looked like the kind of idiot who would consider doing something heroic, like resist his own death. _Crazies the lot of them!_

Harleen's loud groan at his feet caught his attention and the Joker crouched before her. Gently he brushed some of her matted, bloody hair aside and screwed up his face, as he examined the large gash on her head. Pressing the cut gently with his thumb, he saw that it wasn't too bad. It would only need a couple of stitches.

Harleen winced at the pressure of his thumb, and fought the urge to be sick. She was sure she had concussion.

'You can't… please…stop him…' she pleaded but the Joker's tenderness ceased and gripping her arm so that she wouldn't move, he struck her across the face with his full force.

Harleen's head snapped back and the room began to spin again. The skin of cheek reddened and her whole head rang out with pain. Dr. Leland gasped at the sight and the Joker looked at her, as though she'd rudely interrupted but his face didn't portray any anger. He was merely disciplining Harleen, it was a necessity.

Grabbing Harleen's other arm he pulled her body towards him and shook her gently.

'Look at me.' He commanded as he looked down his nose at her, his head tilted back slightly.

Harleen tried to obey but found it hard to focus her eyes, she was suddenly so tired and it would be easy to just give in to the darkness that was filling her mind and disappear in the comfort of sleep. To escape from a nightmare which used to be her dream.

However, the Joker spoke again and shifted his position, moving a hand to cradle the back of her head whilst he used the other to support the small of her back.

'Look at me Harlequin.'

His voice penetrated the dark fog that was spreading through her mind and she half returned to consciousness, following the sound upwards until she opened her eyes and was met with his face. All of the protective 'walls' of her mind were weakened, almost gone.

Softening his voice as much as he was capable he hushed her; now was the time to push her over the edge.

'Shh…good girl, just listen to me… like you used to during the honeymoon months of our relationship…hmmm? Now, I won't deny watching you attack Croc was the highlight of the night so far. But you NEVER get in the way of what I want… that's how it works living with me.'

The corners of Harleen's mouth curved upwards. 'Living with you? Life with you only leads to death.'

The Joker chuckled. _Her skewed logic could be very endearing._

'All life leads to death princess. But I'm going to teach you how to live along the way before we all go out with a big bang!'

Harleen was fully conscious now and she looked at his scarred face openly. He couldn't deny the pleasure he felt that she never shied at his appearance, even when they had first met. _She really was crazy!_

'I'm going to share all the fun with you Harls, let you in on the joke.'

'There is no joke.' A tear escaped her eye, 'You're going to let them murder everyone I love. You're destroying everything I've worked so hard for. You're destroying everything…'

'And what is _everything_?' he raised his eyebrows as if confused. 'Is _everything_ your bland home, you're unfaithful lover, you're mundane job that only got interesting when I appeared…hmmm?...or is _everything_ your promising career that we all know isn't really going to be what you hoped for thanks to your corrupt colleagues. Don't you wonder why you keep failing? Are you _really_ surprised? Why _all_ your choices in life lead to one embarrassing disappointment after another. Tell me… what is this important _everything_?'

'My parents.' She answered flatly.

This appeared to be the right answer.

'Then save them.' He grinned as he let go of her head to reveal the small piece of paper he had torn from the address book. Her parent's home was written on it.

'I keep telling you I'm not a monster.'


	13. Abyss

After retrieving his dropped knife, the Joker pulled Harleen to her feet, gripping her bare arm firmly.

The loss of blood from her tussle with Croc had made her unsteady and the Joker's heavy backhand had done nothing to help. However, Harleen knew she would forgive one of them soon enough, and it made her ashamed. The night had revealed truths about her character that she had never wanted to know.

'So! It's time again Dr. Quinzell for you to make a choice in life. Let's hope it's not another disaster.' the Joker said jovially as he walked Harleen towards Dr. Arkham. 'You must choose between their lives or your parents. One pair dies tonight, which will it be?'

Harleen knew her answer, everyone knew. Dr. Leland was feeling weak from fear and the certainty that she would not make it out alive. Her legs gave way and she fell to the floor. The Joker rolled his eyes. _P__ass out already!_

'Why do I have to choose? Why can't both live? You don't have to kill either.'

'Who said that I'm going to kill anyone?!' the Joker defended him-self as though horrified. 'I'm merely showing you that when you allow yourself freedom to do what you really want, to have what you really desire,' he bent in and nipped the soft, pliant skin of her neck, 'then life is suddenly a reward, and not something to be endured.'

Harleen remained quiet, but shook her head again, pleading with her eyes.

The Joker became impatient.

'You _want_ to do this, you _wanted_ to see what it would be like to run with me, _that's_ why you wore your little skirts higher every passing month. _Everything_ you have chosen in your life has led to this point and you're resisting your _chance_ to make something out of your depressing existence! You see…you _could_ have refused to accept me as your patient as you were far too inexperienced but you wanted to…you _wanted_ me. You chose to tell me all about your perfect boyfriend to make me jealous so that _you_ could live out _your_ little fantasy. You must have known that once I escaped this mad house I would come for you. Why didn't you move? Lock your windows,' he winked, 'You _wanted_ me to come. And tonight, you have had _two_ chances to escape but you stayed in your seat and waited for me. You are already in the habit of making choices to suit yourself but now that there is an _audience_ you are… shy? You want this, you don't want me to leave or let you go but you've got to play the_ little game_ in your head that you're not a bad girl, that you're not insane or sick like the rest of us. And you're not... you're _worse_. Because you know what you are but you go about everyday pretending to be something you're not. Well tonight Dr. Harleen Quinzell, the greatest actress of her age will die, one way or another,' he looked at her black dress, at the red blood on her head and feet, 'and Harlequin will be _born_.'

Harleen couldn't deny his words, they were all true. She was teetering on the brink and could see the cavernous mouth of his dark world yawn wide before her. But he wasn't going to push her in, he wanted her to jump.

The Joker reached up and brought her face close to his. For the first time she noticed the delicate balance of golden red rays in his brown eyes and a thick, black rim which circled the iris itself. They were perfect.

Lowering his voice, he rasped out his final words, beckoning her into the abyss.

'They plan to send me to Blackgate...if I'm caught. Do you think I could escape from there? You would never see me again...my beautiful Harlequin. You would be alone…_forever_.'

Harleen Quinzell jumped.

She would do as he asked, saving her parents along the way but she knew, he knew, that it was the fear of losing him, her obsession and the man she had grown to love, that would enable her to do it. She couldn't bear the thought of never seeing him again even if it meant following 'Hades' to the depths of his hellish world, she would.

'My parents.' She whispered finally, but the Joker read his name in her eyes. He felt a tremendous urge to kiss her trembling mouth, her mind had splintered in front of him and she was shedding her soul so that she could cleave herself to him as he continued his life's mission; to deliver chaos to the streets of Gotham and the Batman.

And he also felt relief, previously unaware that he had been afraid she would resist until he was forced to discard her as a failed plan. It unnerved him that this small, naive woman had such an effect on him but right now he wanted her just as much, and it made him vulnerable. She could never know the power she held over him.

The Joker glanced at Jervis.

Without question he moved to Dr. Arkham and buried his pistol into the doctor's back, whilst placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

Dr. Arkham looked about himself wildly. There was nothing he could do. He couldn't hear anything outside the door, not even the distant sound of police sirens coming to help. He and Dr. Leland were utterly alone and about to meet their deaths. He looked down at her and smiled wanly but she had finally succumbed to her own fear and fainted, slumped forward on the cream carpet. He hoped for her sake that she remained like that and would be spared the sight of his death.

Looking up he watched the Joker smoothly move behind Harleen, wrapping an arm around her small waist as he pushed her body forwards with his, until she stood only inches away.

Harleen was unable to meet the doctor's gaze, her whole body trembling with disbelief at what she was about to do. The anticipation almost became too much to handle and the Joker sensed this.

'Now, the first time is always the hardest so I'll help,' he purred sweetly in her ear, reaching for her right hand with his. Pulling it upwards he folded her palm around the blade's handle into a fist and covered it with his.

Dr. Arkham swallowed, his throat had constricted in fear and he could barely speak but he had to try.

'Harleen, please, don't listen to him. He's a disturbed patient, this isn't you.'

An unchecked sob escaped, guilt churned in her stomach and her shaking increased.

The Joker raised her arm slowly towards Dr. Arkham's throat. The glittering blade hovered mere centimetres from the lump of gristle which bobbed slightly everytime he spoke.

_Oh god! I can't, I can't,_ the last remnants of Harleen's conscience screamed. The Joker felt her resistance as she tensed the muscles of her arm and pulled back slightly. A growl escaped his throat and he tightened his hold on her waist.

Dr. Arkham felt a glimmer of hope. She was still in there, the clown hadn't won yet.

'Think about who you were only a year ago. This isn't you, he has manipulated you every step of the way.'

Harleen felt a little anger at his words but still resisted_. No, there must be something there. He must feel something for me_.

The Joker grinned over her shoulder at Dr. Arkham as he continued to hope.

'You're a bright, clever woman with the whole world ahead of her and a promising career.'

Harleen stopped shaking and her brow furrowed. _That's not what you really think, _her mind argued_, I know how you've used me, and you'll never trust me again after this. _Dr. Arkham didn't seem to notice the change in her but the Joker did and he kissed Harleen's shoulder lightly, causing her flesh to rise in bumps as a shiver raced down her spine.

Dr. Arkham continued.

'He's a liar Harleen. He cares for no one, nothing... not even himself.'

_Go on say it!_ The Joker thought, _say it!_

'He doesn't love you Harleen. He is incapable.'

The Harleen's eyes flashed upwards but Dr. Arkham didn't recognise the woman behind them, he only saw the Joker there, prowling behind her sparkling blue orbs and he knew he had made a fatal mistake.

'He does love me! He does!' she hissed darkly. 'Time to join your wife…Jerry!'

Harleen pushed forward and buried the knife deep into his throat.


	14. Scorpion

**Wow! Sorry for the delay in posting this, I lost steam and had writer's block but now the ideas have come back so I'm cracking on. So I hope that there are still people out there enjoying this, do feel free to review or PM me about things you like/dislike. Oh, and yes I used a Joker blog insult in here as you just can't beat them!**

* * *

Harleen had barely withdrawn the knife from Dr. Arkham's neck, before the Joker whirled her round and pulled her tightly to his chest, the force of his movements crushing the air from her lungs.

With unrestrained strength he grabbed a large clump of her golden hair, her scalp stinging from the tension, and covered her open mouth, his yellowed teeth clashing against hers. Instead of lessening his ferocity, it urged him to grip Harleen tighter as he worked his tongue forcefully into her mouth, stealing the remnants of her breath as he inhaled deeply.

Harleen vainly tried to match his intensity whilst fighting her instinct to push him away and catch her breath. She was finally experiencing the kiss she had imagined time and again for months but she was struggling.

Sensing Harleen's need for air the Joker eased off slightly, allowing her a moment to breathe, before he pressed his lips to hers again and continued his assault; his eyes firmly shut, his fingers kneading painfully at the soft flesh of her waist.

However Harleen barely noticed, her senses flooded by his presence; the taste of his mouth, a thick combination of smoke and alcohol, the waxy feel of his painted lips, and the roughness of his prominent scars as they rubbed the sides of her mouth, causing her cheeks to redden in irritation.

Reaching up she languidly twirled the greasy, green ends of his hair between her fingers, ignoring the coarseness of his woollen coat as it scratched the tender skin of her arms. She felt it all, she noticed it all. She was consumed by the moment and the guilt that had started to creep forwards from the back of her mind, was savagely beat down by the Joker.

He was proud of her and had never found her as beautiful as in that moment. Where she had allowed her own dark ugliness to surface and he wasn't about to let her ridiculous conscience spoil it. In fact, he was kind of enjoying this. Especially the way she ran her tongue along the scarred ridges that lined the inside of his mouth and for the second time that night he felt his trousers become uncomfortable.

He had known months ago that she was in love with him. She hadn't been able to hide it…

_Three months ago… Dr. Quinzell smiled slightly but openly, wanting her patient to know that she found his latest anecdote amusing, even though it had been in poor taste, as most of them were. Titling her head to the side, she rested it lightly on the knuckles of her closed hand, teasing the corner of her mouth with her little finger. All of her flirtatious actions, including the deliberate exposure of her neck as she tilted her head, a neck which led to another deep v-cut jumper, were not lost on the Joker. She flirted outrageously with him, despite her attempt to act professionally and his ego absorbed it greedily. Not only was it further confirmation of his dashing looks and charm, but it also strengthened his faith that he would soon be free of this place and their ridiculous attempts to 'cure' a man who was beyond their blinkered understanding. _

_Reaching forwards, he took another mince pie from the small coffee table set between them. There was also a small glass of port next to the plate. A little bit naughty of his doctor considering alcohol was strictly forbidden for patients. _

_Though as teachers pet, he was sure she only broke the rule for him._

'_So doc, any special plans for Christmas…hmmm…time with all your loved ones?'_

'_You know I'm not able to answer that Joker,' she playfully scolded, part of the game before she told him anyway, 'your therapist's personal life is a forbidden topic.'_

_The Joker played along._

'_Oh don't be mean Harle…doc. It's going to be a cold, cold Christmas this year and it would be nice to imagine something…forbidden…to keep me warm during the lonely evenings.'_

_Harleen rolled her eyes and sighed animatedly, but inside she couldn't deny her true feelings of sympathy. He would be alone this year, with no known family to visit and a skeleton amount of staff covering the week of the holiday. Not that he really talked to anyone else but her unless it was to mock, insult, or demand something outrageous. Perhaps she could get a small gift for him, something that she could pass as being a necessity for his therapy, something professional._

'_Well if you must know, I'm going abroad, to Switzerland to ski.'_

'_Skiing?' the Joker raised his eyebrows as if surprised that she would have such an interesting hobby._

'_Alone?' _

'_Oh no, um, I'm going with Guy. It was his idea.'_

_The Joker sat back._

'_Guy? Who's that? Oh yeah…your 'boyfriend'.' His feigned ignorance thrilled Harleen. He was jealous and she loved it!_

'_So…how is the…er…nurse?' he asked, deliberately guessing the wrong profession._

'_He's not a nurse as I've told you before, he's a trainee psychiatrist and there is nothing wrong with being a male nurse.'_

'_Tell that to Gotham general.' he grinned and Harleen giggled at his inappropriate joke._

_As her laughter died she realised he wasn't looking at her anymore, instead his expression was serious as he looked at his fabric slippers. She became sombre herself, unable to establish a barrier between her own mood and his. Not one of her other patients, or even Guy had such an effect on her._

'_It would be nice to see snow again.'_

'_Is the outdoors something you think about?'_

'_All the time,' he replied as he folded his hands. Harleen could swear she heard an underlying tone of sadness. 'It's rare for me to be cooped up so long doc. I'm a stray dog, no home, no family, I go where I please and live an envied life, because I'm free, truly free not bound by greed or guilt.'_

_Harleen's heart melted, he looked so forlorn._

'_It's not right for you to be kept locked up all day, every day like a common criminal.' The Joker glanced up from beneath his brows when she spoke, then lowered his gaze back to his feet and sighed heavily._

'_It's OK Harleen. I know I'm here for my own good and the innocent civilians of Gotham,' maybe that was going too far he thought but when he glanced at her again her face belied her gullibility, 'and it will be a looong time before I can be trusted with outside privileges. But you doc,' he looked at her, his eyes wide, his mouth smiling warmly, 'you'll get me there.' _

_Harleen felt her heart skip at his words. The Joker watched her face and pushed on._

'_No matter how long it takes...I trust you.'_

_He trusts me! The most feared and dangerous villain of Gotham trusts and...and needs me! Harleen mentally leapt for joy. She quickly made a note to compile a list of his behavioural improvements during therapy, strongly insisting that he be allowed early outdoor privileges. Whatever it took she would get them, and he would be so impressed, so grateful that she had done what he didn't think possible. Whatever it took she would make him see there was another way to use his genius. After all he wasn't truly mad. It was just that no one understood him like her..._

Pulling back the Joker moved his hand up to Harleen's cheek and stroked it tenderly with the back of his gloved hand, her eyelids heavy with desire and her mouth stained with red and white paint from his face.

'That's my Harlequin.' He cooed, as though she were an infant in his lap

Harleen basked in his attention but when he moved away she suddenly felt very cold and very alone.

She wanted to stay in that moment of suspended bliss but as the Joker spoke to Jervis her conscience came screaming through, demanding her thoughts and forcing her mind's eye to picture what lay behind her but she refused to turn round.

The Joker's knife suddenly felt heavy, too heavy to hold and she wanted to throw it away. Turning it over she noticed there wasn't a single mark of her crime but as if possessed by its owners enjoyment for sick irony, the polished blade reflected Dr. Arkham's crumpled body, his turned head and his open eyes which were fixed on Harleen's back.

Harleen hurriedly dropped the knife as though it burnt her, narrowly missing her bare feet, and vowed to never touch it again. Falling to her knees her empty stomach wretched violently. She wouldn't turn round, she couldn't. _What had she done?! And what could she do?! What was she actually capable of? _In that moment she realised she barely knew herself, she had known what she thought, but the person she had lived as, hadn't truly been her. The Joker was right, she had been an actress but that didn't matter now. There was no going back. He had changed things... forever.

Looking over his shoulder at Harleen the Joker sighed. _W__omen! _ he thought before he returned his focus to Jervis. The acrid scent of smoke had reached his sensitive nose and as if to confirm his suspicion, fire alarms sounded throughout the building. It was time to leave.

Patting Jervis on the back, the Joker smiled malevolently and pointed towards Dr. Leland, who was groaning as she returned to consciousness.

'We all need someone to love, don't we...Mad Hatter?'

Jervis looked at the female doctor and shivered with delight at the 'gift' but more than that, the Joker had used his true name and he was ecstatic!

Happy with how easy it was to please such a simpleton as Teapot, the Joker picked up his favourite knife and pocketed it safely inside his coat. Harleen had stopped making a fuss so he slapped her ass sharply, waking her up from her morose trance and exited the office, safely assuming she would follow again.

Ignoring the elevator, experience teaching him that fire alarms automatically disengage them, he marched through the corridors until he found the fire escape at the far end of the floor. As the solid door shut behind them, Harleen uncovered her ears which she had pressed shut with her hands as they walked. The screams of Dr. Leland had followed her moments after they left and her legs shook with fear for the woman.

It would be pointless trying to go back and help her, the Joker wanted Dr. Leland dead and he didn't care how. All that Harleen could do was pray that whatever happened, it would be over soon.

As they descended the stairs, screams and shouts could be heard along the halls at each level and the smoke was getting thicker in the stair well. Fear for her own life returned as Harleen coughed, her eyes watering as she struggled to see the deep purple of the Joker's coat before her.

At the sound of her coughs the Joker looked back for the first time. There was no kindness or sympathy in his eyes, he was coldly assessing her. Without a word he pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and held it out. Taking it she covered her mouth and instantly found it a little easier to breathe. Turning away he carried on their descent until they reached the last floor. However this small gesture, this unconscious concern for her was not lost on Harleen and her heart sighed. All thoughts of Dr. Leland were lost along with Dr. Arkham as she felt hope that he may well love her too, and it would all be worth it.

Opening the final door of the fire escape, the Joker found it led back into the building.

'Fucking hell!' he exclaimed, surprising Harleen that he would say anything so…ordinary. _Why would a fire escape lead you back in to a burning building?!_ He thought but then he laughed as the answer came to him. _O__f course, they'd rather the crazies burn than escape into the Narrows!_ And his laughter increased along with his admiration for the deviousness of the asylum's architect.

Harleen stepped through the doorway behind him and waited. She couldn't understand his laughter and it didn't matter, it had stopped as suddenly as it started. He had taken his gun out and was quickly surveying their surroundings.

Harleen realised, from a career perspective, that they had entered the dreaded Ward Two. The relatively harmless patients were being ushered out of the main door ahead of them, the staff too preoccupied to notice the Joker or register his manic laugh. However, the calm order of the Ward was disrupted by the sudden appearance of Dr. Crane. He repossessed his hessian mask and a bottle of fear toxin, deciding against escape in favour of torturing his favourite subjects; Arkham patients.

'What do you fear?!' he shouted at the top of his lungs before he ran down the hall, releasing toxin into panicked faces, the previous order descending in to chaos. The Joker smiled and Harleen realised he was in no hurry to leave now. Now that there was a show for him to watch.

As the Scarecrow made his way down the Ward he spotted the Joker and increased his stride until he stood before him.

'What do you fear clown?' he asked before lifting the bottle and squirting the chemical into the Joker's face. Coughing and sneezing the Joker rubbed at his eyes, smudging black paint onto his forehead, until he doubled over with laughter, holding his sides as though his ribs hurt.

'Conscription!' he laughed loudly.

The Scarecrow was not entirely surprised by his reaction. The toxin was designed to prey on the minds of patients who still had a shred of sanity, so he moved the nozzle towards Harleen's shocked face but hesitated when he felt the cold, solid press of a gun at his temple.

'Not today Mr. Potato Head.' the Joker warned and the Scarecrow lowered his arm but he was unable to resist a parting remark at Harleen, his hatred and contempt for her heightened by her clichéd romance with a lowly patient.

'I always knew you were white trash Dr. Quinzell.' He sneered.

Before Harleen could think of a reply the Joker pulled her forwards. He was easily bored by Dr. Crane and made a mental note to introduce him to Croc one day.

Due to the Scarecrow's attack, the main exit of the Ward had become blocked with panicked patients and staff, and the increasing volume of smoke from the unseen fire only heightened their anxiety. Pulling Harleen by her wrist, the Joker walked swiftly along the hall, searching for another exit. He wasn't afraid but it was definitely time to leave. The sound of fire engines and police sirens could be heard nearby and they would only slow him down. However, he finally turned a corner which led to another exit, its double doors wide open.

The cold night air felt uncomfortable on Harleen's skin but that wasn't what caused her to stop, resisting the Joker's grasp. His head snapped round and he glared at her but when he followed her gaze he saw her dilemma. Broken glass covered the floor, the result of smashed office windows which lined the corridor. The overhead strip lights were flickering wildly and Harleen couldn't pick out a clear path for her bare feet.

'We have to find another way out.' Harleen said as she turned back but the Joker tightened his grip on her wrist and tutted. He felt a dark glee spread through his body.

'No we don't princess, here let me help you.' Taking hold of her other wrist, he gently pulled her forwards and guided her onto the tops of his scuffed, brown shoes. Steadily he wrapped his arm about her waist and then waltzed them slowly down the corridor whilst humming out of tune the Blue Danube.

However, if this was meant to be romantic it was lost on Harleen as the sound of splintering glass beneath his shoes made her nervous. She scrunched her toes, trying to get a firm grip on his laces as her free hand held his shoulder like a vice.

The Joker enjoyed the weight of her dependence, her implicit trust but he wouldn't tolerate her taking him for granted. He wanted her to love him _inspite_ of her fear, not without it.

He slowed his dance until they were only shuffling along.

'You look nervous Harls? Would you like me to tell you a story? It is near your bedtime.' Harleen nodded but wasn't really paying attention_. Why had he slowed down?! What is he playing at?_

'It's a fable, my mother used to tell. One day there was a fire that consumed a forest where all the lovely little beasties lived. The only way to escape was across a river but some of the animals couldn't swim, one of them a scorpion. Luckily, a cute bunny hadn't left yet so the scorpion asked if she would be so kind as to give him a ride on her back, for he would surely die in the flames. However, the clever little bunny knew about the scorpion's sting and said 'I'm sorry but no, I don't trust you as it's in your nature to sting me'. The scorpion replied logically, 'Shhh don't worry, if I were to sting you then we would both die as I cannot swim. I give you my word, I won't harm you.' The bunny thought that this made sense and she allowed the scorpion to get on her back.'

The Joker came to a stop in the middle of the corridor and was now looking intently at Harleen. He shook her a little, his voice hard, 'Hey? Are you listening to me?' Harleen nodded again and trembled. She knew he pictured them in the story but she couldn't imagine where he was going with it, her mind paralysed with fear. _Surely he wasn't about to hurt her?_

Content that he had her attention the Joker moved his right foot and scraped away a patch of broken glass, before slowly but firmly setting her down.

Gripping her by the shoulders he continued.

'So… the clever little bunny swam in to the river and at first the scorpion kept his word. Everything was going according to plan. But halfway across she felt a sting in the back of her neck and she knew that the scorpion had stung her. 'You're crazy!' she cried 'now we will both die!' but the scorpion shrugged. 'Little bunny, you know what I am. As you said it's in my nature to sting you. Why did you trust me? You're the crazy one.'

With that he let go, stepped back and walked away.


	15. Fire

**Just a quick warning that there's a bit more swearing in this chapter than usual. I hope it doesn't offend.**

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Harleen watched in shock as the Joker walked away, disappearing through the open doors into the darkness beyond without looking back. She gasped, releasing a breath she had unconsciously held. _What?! He was really just leaving her there?!_

'Joker!' she shouted, her eyes wide in amazement. 'Joker!' but there was no response, only the sound of her own panicked breathing as she willed him to return. The smoke was thickening rapidly and the sudden coughing fit it bought on reminded Harleen of the danger she was in.

Hurriedly she pressed the handkerchief over her face and crouched down, staring wildly about as her eyes watered, partly from the smoke and partly from fear. _If she didn't get out of there soon she would pass out but how? _It was getting harder to see and the floor was covered in glass. It would cut her feet to shreds, and_…and he had just walked out! _

Anger coursed through her and she began to shake, gripping the white cloth tighter as feelings of hate towards the Joker, her love and obsession, rose in her heart. _The bastard_! _Had this all been a sick game and this was what? Some pathetic punch line? Fuck him, fuck his stupid scorpion! In fact, fuck all men today! Fuck Guy, fuck Dr. Arkham, fuck Dr. Crane. They could all go to hell!_

Despite her peril her mind continued to race, consumed by the turmoil of the night and the suffocating fear that Dr. Arkham had been right. The Joker had never cared for her, he wasn't able too.

She would have to get out of here by herself no matter what, and then…and then she would get as far away from Gotham as possible, away from all of the madness and start a new life. _Yeah, she was better than this. The Joker was wrong, this was who she was, a strong, mature woman, no matter what feelings he evoked from her with just a look. He was doing her a favour, she couldn't control herself around him, he was like a drug, and she was addicted beyond reason._

Standing back up, Harleen gingerly turned round on the small, spot of glassless floor which the Joker had made for her. Her eyes moved back and forth frantically, searching for a possible path or at least another clear spot that she could hop to, but she could barely see a foot ahead. Everything was darkening and her head had started to ache. Whatever she did she had to act now.

Harleen sobbed, realising she would have to walk out.

Looking upwards she started a silent prayer for courage, despite her faithless beliefs, and suddenly laughed in relief. Right above her head, running along the centre of the corridor's ceiling were two narrow pipes, sourcing the surrounding rooms with water. She was certain that if she gathered enough momentum she could jump up and grab them, just like reaching for the gymnastic bar during her youth.

_Yeah, dumb ass, my gymnastics will come in useful_ she thought scornfully at the Joker. Quickly she knotted the handkerchief about her nose and mouth and positioned herself facing the exit. Slowly swinging her arms back and forth, Harleen bent her knees and bounced on her heels, counting under her breath.

'One…two…three!'

As she leapt she inhaled deeply and the smoky air gripped her throat, causing her to cough again and her grasp fell short. Falling back to the ground Harleen stumbled, grimacing in pain as a shard of glass dug into the heel of her left foot. Despite the wound, her much needed adrenaline kept her focused and she managed to keep herself upright. Balancing expertly, she raised her leg at an angle and pulled the offending piece of glass from her foot. It hurt but it was bearable.

Before her mind could be dissuaded by the fear of failing again, Harleen readied herself for the second time, now bouncing on the balls of her feet as she breathed shallowly.

_One…two…three_ she counted mentally and leapt again. Gripping the pipes tightly, she grinned behind the white cloth. _S__he'd done it!_

The smoke was at its thickest this close to the ceiling, forcing Harleen to shimmy her way as quickly as she could towards the exit, whilst desperately trying to stay conscious and not lose her grip as the muscles in her arms burnt from the strain.

Finally, utterly exhausted, she reached the end of the corridor. With the end in sight she used the last of her depleted energy to swing her legs back and forth and with a lack of grace that would have made her former gymnastics teacher faint with horror, Harleen let go and flew through the exit, tumbling down the stone steps and rolling to a stop on the gravelled path.

Rising shakily to her feet Harleen swore that no matter what, she would never, ever go outside without shoes again. _Ever!_

Hobbling forwards a few paces, she could see and hear the panic and disorder of patients and staff, as they gathered on the manicured lawn opposite the main entrance. Two fire engines were valiantly trying to put out the flames that were rapidly engulfing most of the old building but to her surprise she couldn't see one police car. _Gotham police are worse than useless,_ her mind conceded. _No wonder the likes of Batman had come into existence_.

Harleen moved towards the crowd but had barely taken a step before a familiar, battered black sedan rolled towards her and stopped in front, blocking her way. The passenger door opened and the Joker leaned across the seat, grinning broadly.

'Time to go Harlequin!' he called, pleased as punch that she wasn't still inside the asylum, cowering and waiting for him to rescue her. He wanted her to need him but not be so incompetent that she couldn't escape from such a basic thing as a burning building. _That would have been very disappointing._

However, his lack of emotional empathy for most situations facilitated surprise at her reaction.

Pulling away the handkerchief, her face twisted in rage, Harleen spat at him.

'Piss off! Leave me alone! I'm not going anywhere with you! You just left me in there to die with glass and smoke…and…and FIRE! You make no sense! This is insane!' Harleen ran her hands through her hair as she searched to find the words, sobs and laughter fighting for dominance in her voice.

'I can't keep up with you! I can't think what you're thinking…or…or even try to understand! I thought I knew you, I thought you might…but Dr. Arkham was right and now it ends here!'

As she shouted the last words she looked up again and jumped. He stood before her only two paces away, his face a mask and even his scars appeared to lose their smile.

'I don't think I heard you correctly Dr. Quinzell.' he spoke, biting his words out as one of his hands balled into a fist at his side, the other behind his back.

'You left me there.'

It turned out that Harleen's resolve was only paper thin and now her voice was barely a whisper. Throughout the night, no matter the situation she had felt a flutter of desire in her stomach every time that he looked at her but not in this moment. Right now she saw the killer that all of his victims saw, and she immediately regretted her outburst.

'Did I?' he mocked surprise, 'I thought I was being a hero? It's quite dangerous out here, so I braved it all alone, keeping my sweet little ungrateful Harlequin safe from harm. Why didn't you wait for me?' His voice had lifted slightly, clearly pleased that he was able to terrify her so easily, but his body remained disturbingly rigid and his stare had lost none of its intensity.

'I…I thought…' Harleen stuttered. _Oh god, was I actually meant to stay there_?, her mind questioned._ After everything why would he just leave me there? It wouldn't make sense? _

Confusion was etched all over her face.

'I..I ' he imitated. 'How does thinking usually work out for you Dr. Quinzell…hmmm? As an outsider, it doesn't seem to serve you.'

Harleen had nothing to say. _What was the point?_ It was true what she had said as she ranted at him. She couldn't think what he was thinking or understand him. He could be telling the truth, he could be lying but he was here nonetheless and now that her mind was shamed with fear, no longer crying out that she was a strong, mature woman, her heart strode to the fore and all she wanted was his anger to pass and for him to kiss her again.

If he hadn't decided to kill her.

Suddenly, the Joker snatched the handkerchief from her grasp and put it behind his back along with his other hand.

'Did you ask me to 'piss off', Harls?'

'I'm sorry, I was… angry.' Harleen felt humiliated, she knew exactly what she sounded like but she couldn't deny that she had relaxed slightly, now that he had dropped the 'Dr. Quinzell'.

'Hmmm…well, don't be,' he chuckled, 'I couldn't love you if you were completely subservient…if you were a wet fish!'

_Did he just say…?_ But before Harleen could process his words the Joker had swiftly covered her face with the cloth. It felt damp against her skin and as she inhaled, a dark fog filled her mind and her eyelids drooped before she lost consciousness.

With one fluid movement, the Joker caught her relaxed form and scooped his arm under her legs, until she was cradled in his arms. Still completely unobserved by the dozens of people only yards away, the Joker carried Harleen to his car where he tilted the passenger seat back, and lay her down.

Pausing for a moment, he allowed his mind to become absorbed by the sight of her glowing skin, seemingly set alight as it reflected the orange flames behind them. Unable to resist, he lent forwards and rested his head against hers, the lines of his forehead pressing into her smooth skin.

It felt unnatural and it deeply disturbed him, but the look on her face, her hope and adoration at his last words before the chloroform had taken effect, had stirred something inside his chest and he felt, _what was it?,_ something weak like…tenderness…towards her.

He was secure in the knowledge that this would pass, as it wasn't the first time the little witch had had this effect on him, but he didn't wholly want to resist it. He would indulge this sick fantasy that he genuinely cared for her at times and might lo…_errgh, he couldn't even think it!_

These moments could be his dirty little secret and he liked secrets…

and he liked his Harlequin.


	16. Love bite

**OK this is a biggie, 5,000 words so put the kettle on! I just couldn't find a satisfactory place to split it into two chapters. Anyway, here's the warning, this probably is erring towards a MA rating as it's got very adult themes in it. I don't want to give anything away though, as I prefer to surprise you with what I dream up. Just letting you know that depending on who you are, it might get uncomfortable. Personally, this is one of my favourite chapters I've written (so I don't know what that says about me?!)  
**

* * *

Turning another page the Joker sighed.

Harleen's journal was as boring as her former, bland apartment and if this was the height of her 'passion' for him then he was sorely disappointed. Maybe she hadn't written down all of her nasty little fantasy's in case 'what's his name', the Joker had trouble recalling names of the deceased, had stumbled across it. Though perhaps not, as writing a capital 'J' for his name wasn't exactly cryptic.

No, she had been part of healthy, modern relationship and had the ridiculous notion that both partners should respect the other's privacy. _Ha ha, oh Harls, endearing as always. _She would find out there were no off limits for him, though naturally she'd have to respect his.

Tossing the book aside the Joker sat up on the single mattress, his movements twisting the less than clean sheet which covered the tatty bed.

Harleen hadn't stirred in the last four hours since he had bought them to one of his many hideouts; an abandoned room at the top floor of a derelict apartment building. The lower levels were occupied by a few junkies and the cheapest of Gotham's whores. Not one of them noticed or cared that the psychotic clown, who frequently terrorised their streets, would appear from time to time. Nor did they seem to mind that on this occasion, he carried an unconscious woman up to his floor. To them it was just her bad luck.

When the Joker had made it to the hideout and locked them in, he had lain down and joined Harleen in sleep. However, a few hours was all he ever needed and due to this habit, he found it a little irritating she was still snoring quietly, blissfully ignorant of his presence. After all, experience told him that the effects of the chloroform should have worn off by now.

_Never mind_, he thought, _he could be patient…for an hour_. Truthfully he was still a little tired himself, something to do with age he guessed, whatever _that_ number was. However he had more than enough energy for the grand finale and he had been very…very…patient in waiting for that.

The scars of his mouth met the corners of his eyes as he smiled, his gaze travelling down to the deep crease between her breasts. Perhaps he should start without her, like one of her dreams in the journal, waking to find him naked and repentant, seeing the error of his ways and wanting only her love. _Ha ha!_ _No, not even he was that good an actor!_

Kicking his shoes off to join his crumpled coat which he'd discarded earlier, the Joker swung his legs to the side and placed his socked feet on the bare cement. He wasn't one to waste time on cleanliness but the state of the former inhabitants carpet had been more than he could bear. Taking a knife, he had ripped it up and thrown it out of the window. Large chunks of urine and vomit soaked material had bounced on the heads of unsuspecting pedestrians twelve floors below. It almost made him sorry for them…almost… as in reality he had laughed so hard he nearly collapsed, before searching for other things to throw out such as the rotten bed frame. Surprisingly the mattress hadn't been ruined, its owner probably passing out more on the carpet than the bed and besides, that was what sheets were for; to hide all the dirty little stains people make.

After loosening his tie and the top buttons of his blue shirt, the Joker stretched forward and dragged a brown, paper bag towards him-self. It contained the remnants of fast food he had picked up on the way home.

As he ate a handful of cold fries, he snickered. When he had pulled up in the food lane, rolling down the driver's window to collect his order, he could swear that the spotty teenager had pissed himself, clearly recognising his face. Paying was never part of the equation and either through fear or common sense the boy hadn't asked for anything, but he couldn't resist scaring him a little more. Just before he pulled away the Joker had leant out of the window and whispered menacingly, 'Wanna know how I got these scars?' and the boy had literally fallen off his seat. In his laughter, tears blurring his sight, the Joker had managed to run down the fast food court sign and knock over a bin, spilling its contents everywhere as he drove away.

Harleen had missed it all but was kind enough to hold the bag in her lap whilst he ate. Unconscious as she was.

Taking a sip from the coke carton he pulled out the Kid's Meal he'd ordered for her and laid it on the mattress next to her head. It would be cold now like his fries but he was glad. _That would teach her for sleeping when he was awake._ In fact, she was really starting to wind him up and that wasn't what he wanted as he was itching to fuck her, not hit her and it had been a long time coming for both of them.

It was time to wake sleeping beauty.

Turning round, his face was impassive as he stared at her still form. The thin black, evening dress had crinkled with the nights antics and in her deep sleep, the fabric had worked its way upwards, the hem now resting on her exposed thigh. Reaching out, the Joker licked his lips despite the calmness he felt and placed his open palm on the flawless skin of her leg, gently squeezing to feel the toned muscle beneath, the heat of her skin surprisingly pleasing. Perhaps he was nervous, probably not… maybe a little. The Joker was far from inexperienced but it was always with random hookers, of whom he also neglected to pay. He had never actually…'done it'…with a woman's pleasure in mind.

_Oh shit, _he shook himself,_ those feelings were coming back and if he didn't get a grip he might well act out one of her dream scenarios, minus the repentance crap._

Running his hand along the skin of her leg, the Joker turned, his green waistcoat twisting uncomfortably, until his long fingers smoothed the delicate bones of her ankle, stopping at her small foot. Fully aware that such a simple touch would have caused a reaction in Harleen if she had been on the edge of waking, _she practically swooned anytime he looked at her,_ the Joker surmised it would take something more forceful.

Something that would satisfy his irritation.

Lifting his hand away, the he took hold of Harleen's left foot, the one he had noticed her favouring as she stumbled away from the burning asylum. Gently pulling it towards himself, he examined her heel. The glow from the gas lamp he used offered little illumination in the small room and his own shadow, which stretched out across the bed, obscured what light could reach her. However, the Joker's eyes were accustomed to working in the dark and even though the sole of her foot was black with dirt, he could just make out a thin line of dried blood.

Spitting on his thumb, he wiped it over the small area and slowly revealed the neat wound, which had already begun healing. The Joker couldn't deny that part of him wanted her to wake up angry, secure in the knowledge that he wasn't going to kill her today and say whatever she thought. He loved to be feared, he thrived on it but sometimes, like with the Bat, it was a refreshing change to have an opponent who believed they had a chance of beating him down. The Batman could with his special gadgets and even that Rebecca…no…Rhiannon…no, that's not right…Raquel..._oh whatever_… that Dawes girl had to a degree but only because her secret lover had been on the way.

With Harley though, she had the makings of a fierce temper. Pretty tame right now, but if he could cultivate it…

Without hesitation the Joker pressed the ridge of his chipped nail, yellowed like his teeth, into her cut. Harleen shifted, mumbling something incoherent as she pulled her foot away, before settling back to sleep. Frustrated that she hadn't woken, though familiarly excited at the sight of another's discomfort the Joker pressed again, this time with his full strength, tearing the thin scab and drawing blood to the surface until it ran on to the bed sheet.

Harleen hissed in pain, swiftly drawing her leg upwards as she rolled onto her back. Once again panic was written on her face as her eyes flew open, wildly searching the room's dark shadows for something familiar, her mind slow in recalling the night's events.

Flopping down next to her the Joker supported his head with his left hand, his elbow squashing the Kid's Meal. Reaching out, he brushed away strands of blonde hair that were stuck to her cheek.

'Morning princess! Sleep well?'

Harleen looked puzzled but at the sight of his face everything came flooding back. _Fire, death, murder, fear, so much fear and then this_…the Joker closer to her this night than he had ever been in all the months she'd known him.

Again his face was inches from hers and Harleen couldn't help but look at his mouth, his scarred lips, remembering the feel of them pressed against hers. The last thing she could recall before passing out was his temper but right now he seemed cheerful, no sign of pretence in his eyes. It felt like it had during the therapy sessions... it felt good.

Trying to match his mood even though she was tired and confused, Harleen licked her dry lips and attempted a reply.

'Mm hmm, yes thanks.'

The Joker smiled, his eyes twinkling despite the darkness.

'I bought you dinner, but…um…it's technically breakfast now. Not part of your five a day Harls but we're between homes so we'll have to live a bit…err…rustic.'

She laughed at his choice of words, her heartbeat racing at the sound of 'we' and for a brief moment they both paused, the Joker allowing her a moment to enjoy this little confirmation that he considered them a couple…of sorts.

'Where are we?' Harleen asked, looking past him at the dark room. Even in the dim light, she felt it wasn't going to be any more appealing with the dawn and she was pretty sure that they were lying on a mattress on the floor.

'My penthouse Harls!' the Joker waved his arm in a wide arc. 'Bit of a fixer upper, not quite like uptown but it's got character.'

'And rats?'

'The furry kind or our neighbours?'

Harleen didn't get it.

'But it's got all the things _you_ need,' he grinned, clearly meaning his own company as he forcefully grabbed her backside and pulled her forwards, the heat emanating from her pelvis warming the front of his trousers, 'so everything else is a bonus.'

'Are we still in the Narrows?' she whispered huskily, trying to keep the conversation going, her fragmented pride fighting to keep her from throwing herself at him. _How could he be so cool?_ her heated mind screamed. _Take me! Take me now!_

'Yeah, but I'm not telling you were. It's not wise to share all your secrets.'

'You don't think you can trust me?' she smiled coyly, slowly closing the gap between their mouths, her eyelids drooping, her sweet breath tickling his nose.

'I don't know. After the way you set Guy up I'm not sure what you'd do with me. I have a few good looking friends.'

Harleen pulled back, stung by his words. _That was cruel, that was really cruel._ Her brow creased and her eyes welled up, already sore and swollen from the tears she had shed over the last few hours.

The Joker watched her closely, his smile hadn't faded. _Would she lash out or would she…ah… this was just as good_. Harleen's chin was wobbling.

'Shhh Harlequin.' He soothed, leaning forward to nip her chin before moving his mouth to her shoulder and biting gently, causing the same shivers he had earlier to race down her spine and tease her skin into little bumps.

'I'm sorry. Too soon? It was a joke…want me to distract you?'

Despite his spiteful taunt, Harleen instantly felt aroused again at the thought of him touching her, everywhere, bringing her to that tremendous moment of pleasure she rarely experienced and the way he had dropped his voice to a suggestive growl, it brought her half way.

However, berating herself for not expecting it, the Joker sat up abruptly and pushed the cold meal towards her. It would be no fun for him unless he teased her first. Until he saw her squirm with frustration and desire.

Turning his back to her, though remaining seated, the Joker started to undress, unbuttoning his waistcoat and pulling the tie over his head.

Harleen opened the boxed meal and proceeded to eat the burger bun. The rest of the food was too cold. The bread was the only thing she could accept at room temperature, despite the hollow feeling in her stomach which wasn't feeling so fussy.

The Joker watched from the corner of his eye as he unbuttoned his shirt. She would have to get over her picky ways soon or she would find herself hungry most of the time. He preferred to eat on the run, sometimes literally, and until he found a more permanent set up, some place to stow her away where she could do those things that keep women happy, _cooking, decorating, daytime TV,_ then she would have to get used to it.

Harleen quickly finished her last bite as the Joker pulled his shirt off and threw it aside. Seemingly oblivious to the effect his half naked body had on her, he picked up his drink and slurped at it, wiggling the straw to dislodge the ice cubes and get at the remaining coke.

However, Harleen was not fooled and knew he was waiting to see what she would do. Steeling her nerves, something she hadn't had to do since she lost her virginity, Harleen reached under her dress and pulled all three pairs of her underwear off. _That would have been embarrassing_, her mind giggled like a school girl, the anticipation of what she was about to do making her blush and she felt giddy with excitement. _Maybe she should eat some more_, her mind questioned as she stuffed her pants between the mattress and the wall, but she just couldn't wait any longer.

Sitting up, she edged forwards on her knees, until she was directly behind him whilst he carried on pretending to be engrossed in his drink.

Harleen was captivated by the tensing of his muscles, the shifting of his shoulder blades beneath the taught skin of his back, and as she leant in closely she could vaguely make out at least a dozen scars, tears, little holes. He was marked all over and she suspected that his front would look the same.

However, what stood out most in the dark, and what managed to scare her where his facial scars had failed, was a large tattoo on his left shoulder. Harleen didn't need any extra light to recognise what it was; the macabre face of Pennywise, It, the fictional creation of Stephen King. Harleen wrinkled her nose in disgust. She hated that clown, loathed it, and feared it. She wished he hadn't marked himself with something so ugly but the psychiatrist in her suspected it could be a clue to his dark mentality.

One day she would ask him about it, what it meant to him and she doubted she'd like the answer.

Trying to ignore the clown's sinister leer, its eyes following her in the dark, Harleen sat back slightly. The Joker had dropped the empty carton and was removing his socks, balling them up to throw them aside. Despite his appalling diet there wasn't an inch of excess fat on him, he had the form of an athlete and Harleen sighed, her nipples hardening, the scent of her arousal permeating the air.

Trembling, she held her breath and reached out, lightly grazing the pale skin of his shoulders. The Joker stopped moving. Taking it as a sign of encouragement, Harleen leant forward again and drew her fingers down his back, circling the many scars, unconsciously avoiding the tattoo, before tracing her way back up, allowing her nails to scratch him.

This kind of touch was something she adored and had been enjoyed by Guy.

The Joker's jaw tensed. This just wouldn't do. It felt like he was being tickled by a cockroach back in Arkham, and he hadn't liked it then either.

Using his lethal combination of speed and strength he turned, gripped Harleen's wrist tightly and pulled her across his lap, pinning her arms against her body with the support of his left arm.

There was no shyness, no concern if he was allowed to touch her intimately. Using his free hand, the Joker pulled down the top of her dress and kneaded her pert breasts, pinching and pulling at her pink nipples until they turned a darker shade. Harleen's moans were stifled as he crushed her mouth with his, kissing her as fervently as before, allowing her to lick the inner scarring of his cheeks, something he had never experienced or enjoyed before. But it wasn't enough for Harleen. She yearned to touch him back, to feel the flexing muscles in his arms, to run her fingers through his hair but every time she moved he increased his hold on her, bruising her arms.

This wasn't just about the Joker sating his lust for her, it was ownership, she was a possession to him and he was going to force out all of her sexual memories with 'Joe regulars'. It wouldn't be hard, he suspected the bar hadn't been set high by the likes of Guy but then again, if you're going to do a job right…

Pulling his mouth away after playfully nipping her tongue, the Joker moved his hand to her bent knees, before running it upwards beneath her dress. Harleen parted her thighs expectantly, stretching her neck to reclaim his mouth but the Joker moved his face away. Grinning, he squeezed the soft inner flesh of her thighs, his fingers moving in small circles as he smeared the dampness of her arousal which had spread downwards as she writhed under his earlier touch.

Harleen was breathing rapidly with anticipation, the fine hairs of his chest tickled the sensitive nipple pressed against him. She could feel his heartbeat, slower than hers, but strong against her ribs and she could feel the delicious press of his hardness against the small of her back. He was enjoying this more than he portrayed and it was becoming agony for Harleen. To be held like this with only her boring hips and dress to grip.

The Joker continued his merciless teasing, entranced by the effect it was having on her. Hovering his hand near her pussy, he bent his neck to mouth her breasts, purposefully turning his face sideways to scratch the delicate skin with his jagged scars.

The frustration in her face was turning to anger but it only urged him on. Harleen arched her back, hoping to force his fingers on to her but the Joker was quicker and moved his hand just out of reach.

'Ah tah tah tah,' he tutted, chuckling at her disappointment. After kissing her gently on the forehead, he spoke with an overly soppy tone 'Don't you want me to 'make loovvvee' to you baby?'

'NO!' she shouted with a commanding tone, her face deadly serious. The Joker laughed and rewarded her.

Silencing her with a kiss, he pushed two of his long fingers against the wet folds of her entrance before sliding them in, his thumb gliding upwards to push back the hood of her pulsing clit. Harleen laughed and groaned with relief against his mouth as he worked her roughly with his hand.

Without losing pace or relenting he pushed her on to the bed, releasing his hold on her arms to only move his left hand upwards and grab a fistful of her blonde hair, pulling enough to cause pain, not that Harleen cared. She could feel nothing but the mounting pleasure between her legs and the joy of him watching her like this. The Joker grinned manically at her, the sculpted muscles in his arm becoming more prominent as he increased his speed, the nails of his fingers scratching at the soft flesh of her inner walls.

He wasn't going to kiss her, wasn't going to hold her in his arms as she came for him. He was proving a point, that he could do this, this easy thing without any effort... like everything he would make her experience.

Harleen didn't seem to care though. Her attention was drawn to the large outline of his engorged cock, trapped beneath the purple fabric of his trousers. Uncaring whether he wanted her to or not, glad for the freedom of her arms, she swiftly tore off the only button and pulled the zip down. Reaching inside she lifted him out, gripping his hardness in her small fist, its purple tip glistening in the dark.

The sight of him, her fantasy finally exposed and only for her, pushed Harleen over the edge, sending waves of intense pleasure through her body. Her fist squeezed tightly as she disappeared into her ecstasy, her lower muscles contracting spasmodically around his fingers.

All humour was gone from the Joker's face as he watched her; heard her moans, her long sighs and the tension of her release. His mind finally shut up, his base desire suffocating any points he had to make.

It was his turn.

Roughly he pulled away, releasing Harleen's hair at the same time, before gripping her hips firmly. Digging his fingers in, he positioned himself at her entrance whilst looking into her wide eyes, which shone with contentment. Smirking wryly he pushed forward, revelling at her shocked gasp as he stretched her wide, filling her completely. Pressing down with his full weight, the Joker thrust hard and fast, the ridge of his pelvis rubbing perfectly against her throbbing clit and Harleen could feel the tingling pressure build again. Pulling him closer, she wrapped her legs about his narrow waist, tugging at the bed sheet with her hands to allow him the freedom to move his lips and teeth over her exposed skin.

The Joker increased the pressure of his jaw with each bite, working his way from the soft mounds of her chest towards her collar bone. The initial pleasure gradually grew painful and even though his lower movements still felt intensely wonderful, Harleen was becoming distracted.

The Joker's growls became feral as his mouth left a trail of wet, reddening marks on her skin. Mercifully he didn't bite the high bones of her chest but neither did he stop until he reached the top of her neck, burrowing his face into the tangle of her hair.

Until he let go of her hips to bring his hands up and rest them at the side of her head, Harleen hadn't noticed that he had increased the pressure there too and the released flesh throbbed with pain. He was thrusting harder now, coming closer to his own release but when he bought his head up to look at her, Harleen didn't see the playful, seductive mood of earlier. His eyes were glazed, as though he looked through her. In an attempt to connect with him Harleen kissed his set mouth and reached up to smooth his back and hair.

At her gentle touch she saw his eyes refocus on her and she smiled sweetly at him.

She hadn't learnt.

Visciously he grabbed her hair and yanked her head to the side. Reaching his own climax, his cock jerking deeply inside, he bit down on her neck.

It wasn't kinky, it wasn't teasingly rough. The Joker bit hard, sucking the delicate skin into his mouth until all of his blunt teeth took hold, piercing it with a brutal gnawing motion.

Harleen screamed, her hands turning into fists in his hair as she tried to tear his head away, her legs kicking outwards as she bucked beneath him.

But he didn't stop.

'No stop! Stop it!' She screamed over and over, her voice rapidly becoming hoarse, her face screwed up in agony, her head thrashing from side to side. It was excruciating, unlike anything she had ever felt and she was on the brink of throwing up.

'Please!' she screamed and the Joker finally let go, resting his weight on his elbows as he inspected his work.

'Shhh…'he hushed her. 'It's just a love bite Harls. Don't tell me you've not had one before?'

Harleen stopped crying as she concentrated on pushing him off, placing the flats of her palms on his chest, wishing he would shut up.

'It hurts! Get off! Get off! I'm bleeding! Oh god it hurts so bad. Get off me! Please! FUCKING GET OFF ME!'

The Joker swatted her hands away, gripping her jaw tightly as he waggled a finger in her face.

'Hey…hey…calm down. It's just the one, I promise. But I've got to do this right. I've got to break you in properly. How will people know you belong to me without a few scars of your own?'

'I feel sick,' Harleen groaned, still trying to push him off but with less strength in her arms, defeat in her face.

Despite the pain and the redness on his mouth, his teeth, the Joker hadn't bitten deeply, the blood already starting to clot. But the damage had been done. He wanted it to be as messy as possible, a crude, ragged scar, an imprint of his mouth. The only mark that could truly mimic its source. There would be no doubt in other's minds when they saw it. That Harlequin was his creation, and his alone.

Now that she had finished trying to push him off, the Joker rolled away willingly, unable to take his eyes off the first wound he'd given her. He intended to pick at it as it healed, making sure that the end result would be a bright purplish pink. It would set off his coat nicely when she stood by him.

Lying on his back, he pulled his trousers up as Harleen slowly rose to a sitting position. _Everything hurt_. She knew that she would have found it a turn on, to be this sore afterwards but the stinging pain of her neck ruined it. Gingerly pressing at the fresh wound with her fingertips, Harleen swept her long hair to the other side, wanting to avoid the sticky mess if a few strands got stuck there. _God she wanted to hurt him. She wanted to punch his stupid face, pinch him, kick him and bite him back_.

But she daren't, she didn't know if he would take it.

Interrupting her thoughts, the Joker reached up and pulled her hand away from her neck. Harleen let her hand lie limp in his as she rearranged her dress with the other. The Joker squeezed her hand a couple of times, but Harleen still didn't respond. She didn't even feel like crying. She felt numb and stupid. _Why was she always so surprised at his violence, even towards her? She had sat in her office, her living room, her bed, reading about all of his crimes a thousand times and what? He was above hurting her too?_

The Joker frowned at her back. _Hmmm…maybe he had gone a bit far for their first time but she'd get over it._ Perhaps being a little soft with her now would speed that along, though he hoped it wouldn't put ideas in her head that he was somehow in the wrong. _Urrgh, relationships were hard work._

Tightening his grip on her hand, the Joker pulled her gently towards him until she lay down, resting her head on his shoulder. Reaching round he tenderly stroked the hairline of her forehead, his other hand pulling her arm across his chest into a hug. Lowering his voice, he spoke softly, kissing the crown of her head intermittingly.

'Love bites, tickles, teases, fucks. You've had them all Harls, of course you have, but you played with boys. I will always, always make sure you're satisfied, but you will learn, nothing is done unless it's my way…hmmm? Oh and one more thing…touch me like that again, like a damned insect and I'll bite something you really don't want me to.'

His viscous threat tore into her heart. _Was this his way of comforting her? _And then she laughed without a sound, _of course it was! He actually thinks he's being kind? And he is, in his way. _After all, she doubted he'd ever tried to apologise to anyone before.

The Joker smiled at the feel of her silent laughter against his chest. _Good, she was coming round and hadn't even bothered him by whining for an apology, which she would never get._ He didn't apologise unless he did something wrong which never happened, so he couldn't imagine apologising either. _Ever!_

Recalling his words outside the asylum, about not being able to love her if she was a 'wet fish', Harleen lifted her head and bit his left nipple sharply before lying back down, hoping fervently that he would take it in good humour. Thankfully he laughed before squeezing her shoulders.

'Good girl.' He purred. It was a fine tightrope she would have to walk, knowing when to be submissive and when to surprise him. A little pain would always be welcome, he wasn't adverse to the pleasures it could bring. Hopefully she would learn that balance quickly.

He would hate to break her too soon in punishment.


	17. Acceptance

Grey light and the sound of heavy rainfall filtered through the threadbare curtains, rousing Harleen from her sleep.

Stretching her arms and legs on the narrow bed, she rolled to her side and opened her eyes, her mouth drawn into a smile.

Immediately she could sense she was alone but she was unconcerned.

Her mind rationalised that the Joker, her boyfriend, _no that was too casual a word for what he was to her_, her lover, her paramour, her 'something' …would be back soon. _Hopefully with breakfast and a hot coffee_. Harleen found it impossible to start her day without one, regularly visiting the asylum's canteen for her morning fix. _Not that she was likely to ever do that again,_ her mind interjected. Hurriedly she pushed the thought away. _Not now_, she wasn't thinking about anything right now but her own contentment.

Instead, the child like giddiness she had experienced only hours before grew inside, causing her stomach to flip as she drew her legs upwards. Hugging her knees she gleefully wiggled her toes. _Now there could be no denying the Joker felt something for her._ She knew it couldn't be love, not the poetic printed card type, but there was something there for sure. She had always known that the blunt, insulting psychoanalysis of him, drawn up by Dr. Strange, was wrong. It had become apparent only weeks into his therapy with her, that the Joker was so much more than a violent, narcissistic, sociopath.

Harleen sat up slowly, the soreness of her body advising her to be careful, before she suddenly recalled the Joker's 'love bite'. Her hand flew up to feel her throat, and found that the wound had been covered with a large, square bandage. There was no pain, only the uncomfortable tug of the tape where it was a little tight against her skin.

Harleen chuckled, convinced further that the Joker cared for her. He must have dressed it when she had fallen asleep, her mind glossing over the detail that he caused her considerable pain forming it. Instead, she was delighted and wished he would return soon so that she could thank him.

As these thoughts crossed her mind, her stomach rumbled loudly, fed up with its neglect. Harleen rubbed it sympathetically. The partially eaten burger and fries were still in their bag but she would rather starve than eat them. No, her stomach was just going to have to be patient until the Joker returned, whenever that was…_hopefully soon_.

Standing up, a little dizzy from the lack of food, Harleen pulled back one of the curtains to let in more light, sighing as she looked back at the room. There really was nothing of note, the floor space reminding her of a prison cell. The walls were painted a faded blue, a light fitting hung from the middle of the ceiling, and to her right there was a small bathroom. Its door was missing, enabling Harleen to take in all of its details instantaneously: a toilet, a sink, a towel rail plus towel, a small mirror cabinet and a shower cubicle which looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years.

Her gaze travelled to the bed and she was grateful that she hadn't been able to see it properly in the dark. There were no pillows, no thick goose-down duvet like she'd owned, just an unclean sheet and the hint of a dirtier mattress beneath, partially exposed by the lose bed sheet. Harleen wanted to believe that if she had seen it all before, she would have refused to sleep there, let alone have sex but that was a lie. There probably weren't many places she would willingly refuse the Joker and the idea made her blush self-consciously.

His effect on her was phenomenal.

However, the sight of the shower had also made her conscious of her own uncleanliness, and she sniffed at herself. The smell of smoke clung to her hair, which was also released every time her dress moved, and she could detect the unpleasant scent of stale sweat. Looking down she was horrified at the dirt on her feet and that her toes were still tinged red with Guy's bl…Harleen forced that thought away too.

In an attempt to distract herself she moved towards the other corner of the room where she had noticed the black bin bag with all of her remaining possessions. Untying the knot, she rummaged through it, and was satisfied. It appeared to hold all of its original contents. However in her present state of mind they looked foreign to her, a world away from where she was which had only been _what, ten hours at most?_

She couldn't wait to leave this room but what could she truly expect from another hideout? This was the other side of Gotham life, the underbelly which her, _um, 'sweetheart?'_ lived and partially ran. Also, he wasn't exactly a mobster like Falcone or the late Maroni, who would want to spend their 'profits' living it up in the Ritz. In fact, Harleen had learnt early on during the Joker's therapy that he believed the desire of money ran parallel with the scum of low class criminals. He was above that, an agent of chaos, and Gotham would finally get the criminal it deserved; a perfect counter weight to the Batman. Besides, he took what he wanted and only kept a little for what he couldn't readily steal.

Harleen had found it admirable, to not be corrupted by greed but well…did _she_ feel like that?

She sighed. The room was deathly quiet, only the patter of rain against the window. There was no TV, no radio or even a ticking clock to keep her company. Her mind was able to ramble on uninterrupted.

Last night she had been pulled into a whirlwind of destruction after months of intense infatuation beyond her control, mesmerised by the Joker's actions and attentions. But now, in the very real, cold light of day, everything felt a little…absurd.

She wasn't a criminal. She hadn't lived a life of crime or had a horrendous upbringing which could force her to act dysfunction-ally. OK so her parents were perpetually disappointed in her, hurting her despite their claims that they only wanted what was best for her, but still, that wasn't a psychological basis to turn super villain overnight. _Like her Dad would say, she had to think of the big picture, make plans. You always had to have a plan. Thing's don't just work out. You have to be smart, think ahead. _

Harleen rubbed her forehead, trying to still her mind but it kept going.

_So where were they going to live? She couldn't just eat take out forever and exist in little rooms like this. And what about more serious things? What if she got ill? What about health insurance? In fact, what was the world thinking right now? Was she presumed dead or just missing? Were the police looking for her? Would they think her an accomplice?! What if people were looking for a murderess not a hostage, would she go to jail?_ _God she was a murderer._

Harleen was definitely feeling light headed now and needed to sit down, but her increasing panic marched on, filling her thoughts with a torrent of questions.

_Would she ever see her parents again? They must have seen the news about her apartment or at least have been informed by the police that she was missing. They would be so afraid! And her other friends and relations! The address book! _

Harleen gulped in air, _god it's so stuffy in here_! She had to open the window. Drawing back the curtains she grabbed the latch, but it wouldn't budge and on closer inspection, Harleen discovered that the window was sealed shut.

_OK, that's OK, I'll open the door_. Crossing the floor, her rising panic took it's chance to regain control.

_Her savings, her bank account? It was quite a lot, did the Joker expect her to just give that up? How would she afford all of the basic necessities she needed like…like birth control?! And what else was she giving up?! Her whole planned future! The Joker wasn't about to settle down, he was beyond all of that. He wasn't about to get a mortgage, plan a family._

Grabbing the handle Harleen yanked on it but the door remained locked, stubbornly rattling in its frame. She continued to pull out of frustration and fear. It was so small and stuffy in here and she could smell smoke, smoke everywhere!

_What if there was a fire?! I won't be able to get out!_ _Oh god! What if, what if…what if he comes back and I'm dead! What if he doesn't come back? What if he gets caught, put in jail? What if he's out there right now involved in something bad and gets shot! No one knows I'm here!_

Releasing her grip, Harleen stumbled to the bathroom, her chest painfully tight. Hurriedly she turned the taps of the shower and jumped in. The ice cold water shocked her skin causing her to shiver uncontrollably but it had the effect she needed. It shut her mind up and even though she shook, her chest relaxed and it became easier to breathe.

When her body could no longer take it, Harleen turned the taps off and stepped out. Shivering, she pulled off her dress and picked up the towel, wrapping it tightly about her shoulders. She recognised the Joker's unique scent on it, his musky combination of gasoline and cigarettes. Sitting heavily on the dirty tiles of the bathroom floor, she gave in and cried, pushing the heels of her hands deeply into the sockets of her closed eyes.

_Oh god what had she done? She had led the Joker to Guy, she had killed Dr. Arkham. She hadn't even tried to save Dr. Leland. Wouldn't it have been worth the risk to say something even if the Joker had ignored her? So many people had died last night because of her and her love. She was evil, selfish and even now, she was more concerned about her own future than her friends and relatives, who could all be dead by the hands of Croc and the other psychopaths. _

Sobs wracked her body and she shook her head, groaning under the weight of her remorse. If only the Joker could come back now, she could ask him some questions, sort things out in her head. He would know what was going on outside, he could pacify her with information.

_For fucks sake why did he go out without telling her?! Not even a note! What was the fucking time?! _

Harleen's anger boiled and standing up she turned, looking for something to hit, to throw but there was nothing.

She had never felt so alone.

* * *

'Perfect.' The Joker said to himself, clapping his gloved hands in triumph as he exited the abandoned theatre. For two weeks he had surveyed the building, pleased to find that apart from the occasional homeless man, no one ever entered it. After carefully questioning one unfortunate man, before sending him on to a better place with a coffin shaped roof, the Joker learnt that people avoided this place as it was haunted, by none other than the ghosts of billionaire Bruce Wayne's Mommy and Daddy. The Joker had laughed at this. The ghosts were going to be in for a fright when he moved in! And to his further delight, he learnt that the Batman was rarely seen near the theatre which practically sealed the deal for him.

Walking about inside, he discovered there was plenty of space for his future gang members to board, with the added bonus of not getting under his feet. After all, it wasn't practical that he went grocery shopping, as even without his makeup his scars were conspicuous. And if he killed every delivery boy in the Narrows he would be forced to go out again!

The Joker had chosen a large room for himself and Harls. It had been a dressing room for the main actors of the theatre. It felt strange that he would share such an ordinary thing, be part of something so domestic but it made sense. Her own room, amongst the bunch of misfits he was going to hire, would only spell trouble eventually. The issue with the crazies he attracted was that they could sometimes _be_ crazy and not fear him, getting independent thoughts of their own and Harley wasn't ready to defend her-self properly.

Though that would come with time. The theatres space would supply plenty of creative opportunities to teach her how to fight, to kill without thought by practicing on hostages, homeless men, his henchmen, puppies.

Beneath the theatre's stage the Joker found storage rooms packed high with boxes full of forgotten costumes. Pulling some of them apart he threw numerous items over his shoulder, uncaring about the mess, as he searched for something in particular.

'Come on.' He growled in frustration. _What kind of joke theatre was this if it didn't have at least…ah…there we go._ The Joker held up a black and red unitard, its colours criss-crossed with diamonds. _Hmmm…a little camp but it would do_, Harls could make any adjustments that she wanted but the Bat had to see her like this. The Joker and his Harlequin! Hilarious! Or maybe he could get her to dress as Ruth? _He'd have to bash her face up to look like a pug first, dye her hair brown, get her to look like she had a stick up her arse…no, too much hassle. _Besides, this joke was subtle, it would wear on the Batman over time.

Draping it over his arm, he selected a black jumper and leggings from the box labelled 'mime', the unitard too noticeable for her to wear by day.

Once outside the Joker grimaced at the rain. Hunching his shoulders he walked with a limp to his parked car. Sat next to it on a moped, oblivious to the approaching clown, was a pizza delivery boy cursing the rain and the _dude_ who'd ordered it to such a dumb place.

He didn't notice the scarred man with smudged makeup until he was stood before him.

Stuttering, he confirmed the orders name, his heart sinking as he recognised the man and the name became apparent.

'Mr. Kerr? Mr. Joe Kerr?'

The Joker grinned, pulling the warm box from his hands and tossing it on to the bonnet of the car along with the clothes, before turning back to the young man, flicking his wrist to reveal a switchblade.

'How much?' the Joker asked.

'Um…uh…I…I…don't know. Nothing, man.'

'Nothing? Nothing?!'

The boy stared, mentally debating whether he could turn the bike on and speed away before the Joker moved. Impossible.

'It's always nothing. Do I look poor? Do I look cheap?' The Joker feigned offence, shaking his hands in front of him as he leant forwards, his body uncomfortably invading the boy's personal space.

'No. It's cool, it's free. I was late.'

The Joker stood back, raising his eyebrows in genuine surprise at the boy's response.

'You were late? For what? Your period?'

The boy shook his head, swallowing hard.

'If we fail to deliver before thirty minutes the pizza is free.'

The Joker leaned back in, grinning. He could kill him, he wanted to, but the boy didn't know this was going to be the Joker's new digs, he had only delivered to a car, a car that would be replaced soon. If he killed him now the cops would be here, investigating and _blah blah blah_...

Standing back abruptly, he waved his hand.

'OK. Call me if you want a better job.' And he turned to his car, throwing the box and clothes inside before driving away.

The pizza boy remained sitting in the rain…stunned.

* * *

Sighing, Harleen wilfully let her anger subside. _This was no way for a professional psychiatrist to act!_ She had to focus on something she could control right now and that was her own cleanliness.

Running her tongue over her grainy teeth, she opened the little cabinet in the bathroom. There were two toothbrushes, toothpaste and soap. Not much but enough and she was grateful, previously fearing that there would be nothing. Evidently the enforced hygiene at Arkham had rubbed off on the Joker, as Dr. Strange had also noted in his report that he perpetually fought against showering, forcing the staff to hose him down in his cell like an animal. It had made her blood boil the first time she heard of it and did even now. However, he had conceded to washing three times a week when she became his therapist. Part of his behavioural turn around.

Harleen squeezed a fat line of paste on to the newest looking brush and bent over the sink, brushing hard.

_Text book charming,_ she acknowledged, _as most successful psychopaths were_, but she was sure, no she knew, she could detect vulnerability in him. The fact that he was so impulse driven, wanted an audience, wanted to laugh and get others in on the joke, screamed to her that he was just a 'peter pan'. A lonely lost boy inside who had been labelled a monster and despite his lack of memory, must have suffered a horrendous childhood, making him just as much a victim as those he killed. And he _could_ get better. He _could_ use all of his genius and skill for good. And she could help him.

It was meant to be.

_Yeah, things were going to be fine. _

Turning on the shower Harleen ran the hot tap, holding her hand under the stream of water. After a minute or two she realised it wasn't going to get hot, but stay at its cold temperature. Bracing herself, she stepped into the shower carrying the soap.

_She wasn't a bad person, everything had been out of her control._ Perhaps she shouldn't have enticed the Joker to want her, which would never have happened if Dr. Arkham hadn't set them up, so really she was a victim too. In fact, if she were so bad she wouldn't have had that moment of panic and remorse. The chances were, the police had caught most if not all of the patients who'd escaped. Her friends were probably fine. After all it wasn't like the other patients were anything like the Joker. _Just look at Dr. Crane!_ _He had chosen to stay behind!_ That was why she had fallen for him. The Joker wasn't insane, he was one in a million, he was super sane and they were made to be together. And besides, she had only killed to save her parents lives. Yes she had been angry at the time with Dr. Arkham's ridiculous statement that the Joker couldn't love her, but deep down it had been for her parent's sake… _honestly_.

Finally clean, Harleen stepped back out and dried herself before looking at her reflection in the small mirror. The erotic soreness she felt had left her with bruising similar to a car crash victim. Her arms and wrists bore the marks of his strong grip, her breasts were dotted with purplish little spots and when she looked down, both hips had five small bruises from his fingertips. Looking back up, Harleen peeled a corner of the bandage down until she could see the ring of teeth marks he had left, set against a background of purplish black skin.

It wasn't pretty but it would heal, it would all heal, and it had been worth it. It always would be.

Turning round she jumped. The Joker stood next to her. She had been so engrossed in her image that she hadn't heard him enter.

He looked her over and then peeled the bandage off completely before leaning in to kiss it gently.

The scent of his hair, greasy and smoky, the feel of his mouth on her again, just the sight of him, dissolved all of her previous cares. Of course she would give it all up for him. There was nothing but him. There never would be.

The Joker looked at the redness of Harleen's eyes. It looked like she had been crying again. _Is that all she does?_ He mentally sighed. However, her face was lit up at the sight of him and he assumed she had been crying because she missed him. _Naturally… his company was incomparable. _

'Hi.' She smiled quietly.

'Hello' he answered back, clearly amused. 'Miss me?'

Harleen nodded.

'Here you go.' He handed her the jumper and leggings, bending to pick up her dress. 'There's food in the car. We're leaving now.'

'Where are we going?' she asked as he walked back into room.

'To a more permanent address.' he answered, as he threw her black dress on to the mattress, 'hurry up.'

His mood had suddenly become distant, business like, despite his initial warmth but Harleen obeyed. Maybe she should get a tattoo on the back of her hand, reminding her that his mood was constantly changeable.

Dropping the towel, she pulled on the clothes. _No shoes! Arrgh!_

Turning round the Joker picked up the towel and threw it on to the bed, before looking her over.

'Ah'. He noticed her bare feet.

'Yeah.' She smiled.

'Well you'll be spoilt for choice where we're going. You'll see.'

Harleen couldn't imagine, but fantasied that they were moving to a Jimmy Choo warehouse. _Now that would make up for it!_

Realistically, she knew that wasn't going to happen.

Picking up the gas lamp, the Joker lit it before tossing it onto the bed, the sheet catching fire instantly.

'Do you do this whenever you leave a place?' Harleen joked.

The Joker pointed a finger at her.

'Evidence Harls. You're going to have to start thinking a bit more street and less book, unless you want to end up behind bars. I'm not going to jail because of your stupidity. Understand?'

Harleen nodded, offended by his blunt warning that when it came to the law, it was each clown for himself.

Seeing her pout the Joker laughed. Grabbing her wrist once again, he pulled her to the door and mussed her hair before planting another kiss on her smiling mouth, all offence forgotten at his touch.

Looking into her eyes, the Joker couldn't see any madness, nothing like what he had stirred in Harvey Dent and he had spent far less time working on him than her. No, they only reflected the garden variety madness of love. She hadn't abandoned everything in her life, worthless as it had all been, because he had broken her completely.

In the end, Harley was following him out of choice. She genuinely believed there was a connection between them, and he supposed there was. She was the first person to ever survive this long in his company not in a job capacity. And she was dark, darker than she realised, purely because she was choosing all of this. She wasn't being forced in to it. She might just be worthy of him and perhaps, if he didn't tire of her, which he probably would, she could hang around after the Bats got the joke.

After all, despite her sombre attitude for most of the night, she had been funny and laughed beautifully during therapy, listening to everything he said with due appreciation. And as for the sex, well that was going to alleviate some of the boredom of the day, whilst he waited for the night to come.

Turning to leave, the Joker nodded at her black bag.

'Forgetting something?'

Harleen looked at it and then back at him, her blue eyes shining with devotion as she let her past slip away, baptised by his affections into her new life.

'There's nothing to remember.' She said softly.

The Joker grinned, his eyes sparkling with genuine pleasure at her words.

* * *

**And that's the end! I hope you have enjoyed it! I have loved writing it and am quite pelased with it for a first attempt! **

**I do have thoughts for a second story, following up on their relationship, so may start that soon.**

**Please do review, I would love to hear what you think and it will be a great incentive to start another. **

**Oh and thankyou to all who've added this story as a favourite before it was even finished! Wow! And to the followers. All very positive stuff =)**


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